


When it all falls apart

by Codango



Category: Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun | My Little Monster
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Childhood Sweethearts, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Exes, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Old Friends, Physical Abuse, Teen Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codango/pseuds/Codango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun was warming the fresh stitches on her face when Yamaguchi Kenji walked back into her life. The eldest son of the prosperous medical family had finished his residency last year. Mizutani Shizuku hadn’t seen him since her wedding, but the only change seemed to be that he was wearing his blonde hair in a short ponytail now.</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“Hm?” She wasn’t prepared for the brusque question.</p><p>He flashed that same old smirk. “When… did you get your face looked at?”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes. He had to know—well, of course he did. He had warned her about Haru even when they were all in high school together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this work contains scenarios that, while not graphic, may be difficult to read due to hints of partner abuse and relationships that have ended. My goal isn't to focus on those aspects however, but rather focus on the healing that can come afterward.

She noted the contents of the can as it flew at her face. “Mackerel.” And then stars exploded behind her eyes.

She left him to his rage — something at the lab had gone wrong. “Again.” — and went to the bathroom to get a damage report. There was no speaking with him when he was like this anyway.

“Ah.” The mirror didn’t have good news. Blood was already halfway down her face from a neat little split high on her right cheekbone. “Like a fucking peach.” She prodded the area around the cut gently. “Nothing broken.” Still, it could probably do with a stitch or two. That was a first. “But the last.” She looked herself in the eye that was slowly blackening. “The last.”

Haru was still in his blind rage when Shizuku quietly let herself out of their apartment and took a cab to the ER. Holding a kitchen towel to her cheek, she directed the driver to the hospital, her voice calm and steady. Her lack of alarm shocked her.

At a stoplight, she texted her mother. “About that position — I can be in NYC next week for a pretty reasonable ticket. Y/N?”

The cab had only gone another block before her phone lit up with an answer. “Y. I have a spare room.”

Just like that. She told a nurse she’d opened a cabinet and a jar fell on her face. Held back the vomit at the nauseating feeling of a needle going through her cheek. And, back at the door of their apartment, told Haru she was moving out.

He was a mess.

Apologetic and sobbing and in a rush to tell her he loved her and that it wasn’t her he’d been mad at and couldn’t she forgive him one more time?

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I forgive you. And I’m staying in a hotel tonight.”

Haru swallowed hard. “Shizuku… but you’re coming back.” She’d never stayed in a hotel before. To be honest, these things usually ended with her falling asleep held tightly in his arms. He could be so tender.

She walked past him into their bedroom. Knelt and pulled her suitcase from under the bed. She tried not to feel him watching her from the doorway in disbelief. Underwear, toothbrush, glasses, shower kit, something to sleep in, purse…

“Sh-Shizuku.” His hands took hers, gently, keeping a pair of socks from ending up in the case. His voice was barely a whisper. She looked up at him then.

God, she loved his eyes. His black hair swept over them in such a wild way. She tugged at his bangs. “Fucking wild man,” she whispered, not unkindly.

Haru’s eyes welled with tears. He touched her cheek. Even with his light fingers, she couldn’t stop a slight gasp.

He gritted his teeth, his face wet. “Oh. God.” He tried to hug her, but she put a hand to his chest.

“Haru. I have to go.”

“I—god, I don’t want you to. Please. Please say you’ll come back. Please come back.”

She very nearly stayed at that point. He was so broken, so completely shattered at what he’d done.

Shizuku took a steadying breath. He was always shattered. Always heartbroken at what he’d done to her in his moments of uncontrollable rage. And he’d be a docile housecat. Until the next time he was a beast.

Haru followed her quietly to the door. She turned to say goodbye, but he was staring at his hands as though he’d never seen them before.

“I’ll call you,” was all she said instead.

He breathed in sharply but nodded. She walked away quickly before he could look up and stop her heart with those beautiful eyes.

It was the shittiest night she’d spent in a long time.

* * *

 

 

“Thanks so much.”

Shizuku accepted the black coffee, ignoring the barista’s curious stare. Her right eye had decided to stay shut this morning, but, strangely, she didn’t feel the need to hide it. She was done with that. Besides, her hotel was far too depressing to stay in all day.

She settled on a bench at a park across the street. “Thank god for Saturday.” No need to call in to the firm to ask for a couple days off. She closed her good eye. Tilted her head back. Let the sun warm her face while the coffee warmed her hands.

The minutes slid past, rustling leaves as they went. The busy park buzzed gently with people choosing to walk a more pleasant route than the city sidewalks.

“Shi-shizuku?”

_Bleh._

She peered through one half-closed eye before she committed to a frown or a smile. _Not in the mood for explanations._

A tall, lanky man stood just over her, brown eyes wide. He looked to be about 30, but god, she’d know that face if it were 60.

“Fuck.”

He blinked. Stepped back, his expression closed and formal. “Pardon me. I thought you were —”

“You know damn well who I am.” She looked up at him and took an evil delight in seeing him recoil at the sight of her face. “Long time no see, Yamaken.” 

But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Well, he was but only technically. He squatted quickly, taking her face in both hands.  He tilted her chin up, getting the stitches in full sun. A thumb feathered over the swelling under her eye.

“Nothing broken.” Yamaken’s voice was clinical.

Shizuku batted his hands away. “Yes, it’s been looked at, thanks.”

He stayed in a squat, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes roamed her face, and she knew he was continuing his examination inside his head. Seeing only the bruising and swelling, not really her. She took the opportunity to study her old friend.

He was a pediatrician now, she knew. The Yamaguchi family was well documented in Tokyo’s society blogs. Yamaguchi Kenji, eldest son of the prosperous medical family, had finished his residency last year. She hadn’t seen him since her wedding, but the only change seemed to be that he was wearing his blonde hair in a short ponytail now.

“When?”

“Hm?” She wasn’t prepared for the brusque question.

He flashed that same old smirk. “When… did you get your face looked at?”

She narrowed her eyes. He had to know — well, of course he did. He had warned her about Haru even when they were all in high school together.

“So tactful,” she said.

His smirk vanished, replaced with a seriousness that surprised her. “Are you all right?” Yamaken’s question was quiet.

“Last night,” she answered, her tone purposefully light. “They checked me out at Yamaguchi last night.”

“Ah.” He stood. “Well, I’m elated you knew where to get good care.”

Shizuku met the statement with an eye roll, but the jab had cut a little. It wasn’t that Haru didn’t care. She knew he did. Something was just… broken, maybe. Or not there to begin with. Her vision started to blur. Tears? _The hell._

“Oi.”

Yamaken held out a hand. “I was going to get lunch before my shift. Eat with me.”

“Lunch? It’s 10:30.” But she stood.

“Yes, well, doctors have to eat when we can.”

She fell into step next to him as they left the park. “You have been waiting 10 minutes to say that line.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Yamaken was light years apart from Haru in many ways, but damn, did they share a confidence you could shatter rocks against.

It took only a few steps on the busy sidewalks outside the park for Shizuku to feel the stares again. She touched her cheek. The stitches did feel a bit tighter than they had this morning. _More swelling?_

Yamaken stopped. “On second thought.” He looked down at her. Holy shit, had he grown since the wedding or had she just not noticed then? “Want to eat at the hospital? The cafeteria’s actually quite good.”

She laughed humorlessly. “I look that bad.”

“Your face might give a few well-meaning individuals pause, yes.” He raised his eyebrows. “But it’s up to you. The ramen shop just over there is spectacular.”

It couldn’t hurt to accept an escape graciously offered. “I wouldn’t dream of turning down an exceptional hospital cafeteria.”

“You always were so intelligent.” Yamaken gestured to a street on the left. “It’s not far, just a block up and back. We’ll be eating in 15 minutes.”

Shizuku nodded. She knew where Yamaguchi Hospital was. Somehow it had felt like the safest option, at 11 o’clock last night, to just get a cheap room nearby. Close to help. She sighed. And Haru’s lab was on the other side of town.

They walked in silence for a bit. Her cheek was stinging badly now. She’d left her pain pills in her room — she’d only gone out for coffee, after all. God, what must her face look like now? So far Yamaken hadn’t showered her in sympathy, and she’d prefer to keep it that way for a number of reasons.  But would that last, sitting across from him over lunch, looking like Haru’s punching bag?

“Blech.”

“Shizuku?” Yamaken stopped next to her.

“And I said that out loud.” She laughed. “Could we stop at my room? I left my pain pills in my bag. Wouldn’t mind taking one with a sandwich.”

He looked at her. “Your room?”

Oh. He wouldn’t necessarily have known that she left Haru. “Ahhh. Yes. It’s temporary.” _Stop explaining, stop. Right now, stop._

Yamaken barely missed a second. “Of course. It’s on the way?”

“The little hotel next to Yamaguchi, actually.”

He frowned. “You’re staying there?”

Sometimes she wondered if being with Haru since high school had made her own temper more inflammatory.  “Is there a problem?”

Yamaken didn’t respond immediately. “It’s not… the safest place you could be.”

“Oh?” Her irritation vanished, replaced with a surprising jolt of panic.  It was like a shot of electricity right in her chest. “What’s not safe about it?”

“Yamaguchi has tried to purchase that hotel for a few years now,” he explained. “It’s right next door to the hospital, so of course it’s convenient for families. But it’s a family-run business, has been for years, and the old man just isn’t interested in selling. I suppose he doesn’t know what else he would do. But he’s getting on and is a bit set in his ways.” He glanced down at her. “You received an actual key for your door, I imagine?”

Shizuku felt the bit of metal weighing in her pocket. She had thought that was odd, in an age where “hotel key” meant “magnetic card.” But she hadn’t exactly been in an analytical state of mind. Now she wondered what else went with a hotel run by someone living in another era. If someone came asking for her — would they give out her name at the desk? _Surely not._

They were at the front doors of the hotel. They stood in silence together for a moment.

“Can you —?”

“Would you mind if I came with you to your room?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be easy, she thought. All she would have to do is tug him into the room. Actually, if anything remained from high school, all she’d really have to do is maintain eye contact for awhile.
> 
> “Shizuku?”
> 
> Unfortunately, she’d never been the seductive type. She turned away from him and walked over to her bag on the floor. “Haru was just here.” And she started to pack.
> 
> “Har —!”
> 
> “You were right.” She laughed. “Again. I’ll find another place. More secure.” She didn’t look at him as she walked past him into the tiny bathroom. Began collecting the things she’d carelessly strewn around the night before. “I shouldn’t have to go back to the hospital until it’s time for the stitches to come out.”

She opened her door smoothly — the lock was in good condition at least — but couldn’t stop herself from seeing the poor quality of the rest of the room. The stains and smudges and frays that were hidden when she was exhausted and numb shone starkly in the light of day.

Or maybe it was the light of Yamaken. It was impossible not to recall his privileged life as she dug around in her purse for her prescription bottle. Fingers closing around it, she turned to go. “Found them —"

The words died in her throat. He was just standing there, but she was fucked if he wasn’t doing it perfectly. A leather jacket for the cool spring weather. Sunglasses in his blonde hair. Really fucking long legs. Yamaken had always been the picture of crisp style, but right now the picture hurt. A young, hot doctor. Really?

And here she was, in a stained college hoodie, faded leggings, and a face that would have done a movie makeup artist proud. Standing in a crappy hotel room with a bottle of pain meds. Separated from the husband that this guy had warned her about. Could the universe have laughed any louder at her choices?

Yamaken unfolded his arms from his casual stance. “Uh… I don’t… Shizuku?”

She smiled but dammit, tears again. “Oh owwww.” She dabbed at her swollen eye with her sleeve. “Augh, crying really hurts when your face is already on fire.”

Yamaken crossed the tiny room in two steps. He hesitated a split second but then put one hand on her shoulder and grabbed her pills with the other. “Let’s get one of these ready to go.” He looked around the room. “Do you have water?”

Still covering her eye, Shizuku gestured to an aluminum bottle on the single night stand. No lunch now. No pretending to be normal.

Yamaken presented her with the bottle and a pill. “Do you have anything in the room to eat that with?”

She stopped herself from shoving the pill into her mouth. “Oh. No.”

He frowned. “That’s not going to feel awesome then. Hang on.” He walked quickly to the door. “Let me in when I get back, ‘k?”

“What? Don’t you have to—" but the door had shut behind him.

* * *

 

A knock woke her up. “Shizuku? It’s me.”

 _Yamaken?_ Oh fuck, she didn’t even remember sitting down.

“Shit. Do I have the right room?”

She stifled a laugh at his question, muffled through the door. “I’m coming! I’m coming.”

He gave her a once-over as he came in. “How did you fall asleep? I couldn’t have been gone fifteen minutes. Here.” Shizuku took the wrapped onigiri. Yamaken held up a second package. “Shall we have lunch in today?”

“Ha. Don’t you have to get to your shift, Doctor?”

“I’ve already called them. I’ll send you a bill if that makes you feel any better.” And he seated himself on the bed, unwrapping his onigiri.

Shizuku blinked. But, well, there wasn’t any other furniture in the room. And the floor didn’t have a tatami. She sat across from him on the low bed. “How shoujo manga is this?” she asked lightly.

“I don’t know that shoujo manga typically includes faces like yours.” Yamaken bit into his rice ball.

 _Right._ She began eating, if for no other reason than to not have to respond.

“That — that was unnecessary.”

She looked up, surprised.

Yamaken gave her a wry grin. “Your face is fine. Of course. The only thing that makes this not fantasy material is the quality of the room.”

Heat started crawling up her neck. _The hell? A little soon, Yamaken?_ But there was a part of her that was thirsty for the normalcy of flirtation. “Rest assured, the room is temporary. I’m only here for a week.”

“Care to say why you’re here for a week in the first place?”

She looked up from her nearly demolished onigiri. “Wow. That was quick.”

Yamaken wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “Not at all. I’ve been holding my tongue for at least an hour now.”

“And I appreciate that.” She licked the last bit of rice off her fingers.

All sense of light-hearted banter evaporated from the room. Yamaken looked at her through lowered lashes, unsmiling. “Do you remember that we’re friends? That I care about you? And that I’m not fucking blind?”

She clenched her jaw. “There’s no need to bring that up —"

“This isn’t a confession.” He leaned forward on his knuckles. “We’re friends, and I get to care. About you. And about what… someone… has done to you.”

Damn, his eyes were on fire. She looked away. “It’s not all that bad actually. Haru would never hurt me on purpose. And he didn’t hit me, so you can stop worrying about that.”

“Why are you staying in this shithole of a hotel for a week then?”

“You’re awfully aggressive.” She kept her voice calm. She wanted to tell him the truth, all of it. But shame, illogical and unwanted, choked her. Admit that she made a mistake? Admit that Haru wasn’t, would never be, mature enough to control his anger? Much easier to accuse a friend of being nosy. Shizuku nearly gagged at the thoughts flying through her mind. How transparent and ugly and small they were.

Yamaken sat back as though she’d slapped him. “Aggressive? You sit there with your face literally in stitches, and you say I’m —?”

Oh god. Would he leave? Panic seized her as “not want” filled her brain.

He stopped speaking when he met her eyes. Hurt left his face. “All right. All right, I’m being a little... intense. But—" he reached across the bed and very gently touched the brow above her swollen eye. “Please. Please tell me.”

Relief flooded her. “Mackerel.”

“Wh-what?”

“It was a can. Of mackerel.”

* * *

 

It was 4 p.m. when Yamaken left her hotel room again. This time for juice. “Normally, this type of conversation would call for beer, but you can’t have any,” he’d said. “Let me in when I get back?”

Shizuku nodded, putting back the cash he’d refused. “Get doughnuts too.”

She hadn’t told him everything about life with Haru since they got married, but she’d certainly given him an overview. She’d been careful to inquire about his life too. Thanks to the tabloids, she definitely knew a lot already but why admit that she’d been paying attention?

Yamaken had the sort of life she had assumed she would have herself — not necessarily in the medical field, but the type of routine where work was life. He told her he wasn’t married, but Shizuku had known that. In fact, she knew that he’d been in countless short-term relationships and ended one engagement.

“Saving that one though.” If he prodded her for plans post-Haru, then she’d ask him about his ex-fiancée in defense. She wasn’t ready to hear “I told you so” and also wasn’t convinced anyone could ever be enough of an adult to truly resist the phrase.

“Listen. To. Yourself.” Shizuku stood from the bed angrily and paced the room. “Conversations aren’t battles.” Well. Not all the time.

_Tap tap._

She flung open the door. “What kind did you—"

“Hi, Shizuku.” Familiar eyes twinkled underneath black hair. Haru grinned sheepishly.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, mouth gaping. But then he started to move into the room.

Shizuku stood as tall as she could, knowing she didn’t reach his shoulders.  “No.”

Haru stopped, hurt in his eyes. “Come on — can’t we talk?”

“We are talking. And you don’t need to be in my room.”

His brow furrowed. “Stop being obtuse. You know what I meant. Why are you here anyway?”

She flourished a hand at her cheek, like a game show host displaying a prize. “Does this look familiar? I repeat, you’re not coming in my room. How the FUCK—“ she shouted the word “—did you find it?”

Haru placed both hands on the doorjam but didn’t try to enter the room again. “I called the hospital. Told them I was your husband. They told me you’d checked out. You packed a bag, so I assumed you’d find a hotel nearby.”

She swallowed hard. “Then you should have also assumed… that I don’t want to be near you.” She forced herself to look him hard in the eye. “You have hurt me for the last time.”

“I would never —!”

“Haru!” She barked his name. She closed her eyes and kept her voice low. “I was clear just then. You’re not to come to this hotel again. And I’m not telling you where I’m going next.”

His dark eyes blazed, and he opened his mouth to say god knows what but then… footsteps rang on the tiled hall around the corner.

Shizuku narrowed her eyes. “I suggest you leave. I’ll scream if you stay. Don’t make me prove it.”

Haru’s eyebrows shot up. Then a sad smile — with a bit of admiration? — twitched his lips. He reached out to brush away her bangs, then he was gone.

“Aaaaauuggh! Bluh.” Shizuku fell back into the room and leaned against the closed door. Her eyes sprang open when a knock sounded right at her ear.

She opened the door, and there he was. Achingly tall, with that long blonde hair. His eyes widened at her expression, and she knew she must look like thunder.

Those sexy, cat-like eyes had been so… tantalizing in school. He’d kissed her once. On the cheek. She’d never told anyone, never, that her panties had been just the tiniest bit wet when she took them off that night. Her chest felt warm, and she knew she was wound up from Haru’s surprise appearance. She’d pay for the room and leave, immediately. Find somewhere else, somewhere more secure.

Everything she did from now on would be her decision. And she’d do it for herself, because she was free, not afraid. Exhilaration filled her.

“Shizuku?” Yamaken raised an eyebrow. “You all right?”

She looked up at him from under her lashes. _Free._

It would be easy, she thought. All she would have to do is tug him into the room. Actually, if anything remained from high school, all she’d really have to do is maintain eye contact for awhile.

“Shizuku?”

Unfortunately, she’d never been the seductive type. She turned away from him and walked over to her bag on the floor. “Haru was just here.” And she started to pack.

“Har —!”

“You were right.” She laughed. “Again. I’ll find another place. More secure.” She didn’t look at him as she walked past him into the tiny bathroom. Began collecting the things she’d carelessly strewn around the night before. “I shouldn’t have to go back to the hospital until it’s time for the stitches to come out.”

Shizuku gasped as Yamaken appeared in the mirror next to her.

“You’re staying with me.”

The bottle of face wash fell into the sink. She stared at the blond man’s reflection, his expression stern. “Don’t be ridiculous.“ Shizuku resumed packing her toiletries. “This is not your problem. And I have other options.”

“All of them with you alone, I expect.” He didn’t move.

God, he was too close. She zipped the small bag closed and elbowed past him into the room.

“This was an exception. Any other hotel with security in the 21st century —”

“And what about when you go out? Like today?”

“What, you’re planning on being with me twenty-four-seven for the next week? What about work?”

Yamaken paused. Stared at her, frustrated. “My apartment complex is gated. There’s coffee and food and a pool if you get stir crazy. And then… when I’m not working, we can —” he cut himself off. Looked at the ceiling and laughed quietly.

Shizuku felt a flash of warmth in her chest. Yamaken had hardly ever laughed in high school. “We can…?” _Dammit. What are you, 12?_

He laughed again. “No, no. I was just thinking I’m going about this all wrong.” Those feline brown eyes reached into her brain and fused it. “Shizuku?”

Playful. Quiet. _Fuck._ Her mouth went dry. “Wh-what?”

“It’ll be free.”

She blinked. Well, that wasn’t at all where her thoughts had gone.

“Isn’t that what always swayed your decisions?” He walked toward her, hands in the back pockets of those tight jeans. “How much something costs? Your own room, all the privacy and security you could want. No cost for a week.”

He stopped a foot away from her. Shizuku clenched her jaw, eyes wide.

“Do you know how much it costs,” Yamaken continued in that low, teasing tone, “to rent a secure hotel room for a week? And the internet won’t be free either. You’ll have to pay extra for every hour you and your mom spend working out the details of your move.” He grinned at her, blond hair falling over his eyes.

….

_Fuckfuckfuck._

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It can be quite refreshing to hear the honesty of happily drunk people. Natsume is one of those who is quite charming when she’s had a few glasses.”
> 
> “Are you?”
> 
> Shizuku’s eyes flew open wide. “Am I… ?”
> 
> “Charming when you’re drunk?” Yamaken’s smirk was hidden behind his ramen bowl, but Shizuku could practically hear it.
> 
> She crossed her arms. “I don’t get drunk.”
> 
> He set his bowl down and leaned forward on the table. “That’s a shame. Shall we try before you leave?”

“Two thousand yen for early checkout.”

Shizuku stared at the evening clerk. “What? That’s —”

“Here.” Yamaken put down her bag, took a few bills from his money clip, and set them on the counter. “It’s past five, and you haven’t let me eat properly all day.”

“Oh.” She reached for her bag, but he grabbed it smoothly. “Well — well, what do you want? I can buy dinner.”

“Nope.” He was nearly out the door.

Shizuku gritted her teeth, shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “Why not? Afraid all the places I’d take you would be too cheap?”

Yamaken smirked, and dammit she liked the way that looked. “I’m not above eating at any hell hole you’d consider spending your money at.” He slung her bag over his shoulder. “But how does ramen at my place sound instead?”

“Ah.” Shizuku gripped her purse strap tightly. An image of Yamaken taste testing a soup in his own kitchen sprang to mind.

“Just from the cafe downstairs. I don’t cook. Sorry.” He glanced down at her. “I know you do. But like I said, the hospital cafeteria’s good.”

“I could cook.” Shizuku nearly bit her tongue. Now why did she volunteer that? If she weren’t positively vibrating from the weird happenings of the afternoon, all she’d really want to do is take another pill, fall back on a futon, and pass out.

Yamaken turned down a street, and Shizuku instantly noted the more extravagant high rises. “Sure, if you’re ever bored and feel like it. Say the word. But not tonight.”

 _If you’re ever bored… and feel like it, say the word._ The words casually stripped off their original meaning and ran naked through the halls of her mind.

“Oi,  you getting tired?” Yamaken’s face filled her vision, and Shizuku stumbled backward a bit. “Your face is kind of red. We’re nearly there, promise. Then you can rest.”

Shizuku swallowed as they continued walking. She took in the high-end street until Yamaken stopped at an elegant but serious-looking gate. It spanned the width of a well-kept alley. _Well._ Shizuku stepped through after he held up his wallet to the gate pad. _I say alley. It’s more like… a landscaped private sidewalk._

“That’s the cafe,” Yamaken said as they passed a small shop window. “The ramen’s not as good as the place I was going to take you earlier, but it’s nice to have right there.”

Shizuku didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide and taking in trellises covered with early spring flowers, small waterfalls here and there, and tall windows on either side, trimmed with colorful curtains.

“Here.” Yamaken tapped his wallet on a door tucked discreetly behind some potted bamboo. They stepped inside a lobby the size of a very chic envelope. A short and awkwardly silent elevator ride later, Yamaken let her walk into his apartment first.

There were boxes everywhere.

Shizuku took in the spartan conditions wordlessly. Where everything outside was light and welcoming and orderly, Yamaken’s apartment was… she took a hesitant step forward.

Spacious.

Empty.

Dark.

Cheerless.

She turned to him. “This is where you live?”

“H-Hey!” he protested. “It’s… the blinds are shut, and, well, I only really live in the bedroom so I haven’t bothered to… and I’ve only been here a little while.” Yamaken brushed past her into the apartment, slipping off his shoes. “And the hospital keeps me really busy.”

He flipped a switch, and the blinds raised to let in the late afternoon sun. The stark white walls glowed, and Shizuku closed her eyes, letting the colors rest on her face.

“Your room’s here.”

Shizuku followed him into a small bedroom. Everything was perfectly made up, but the room had an air of disuse — as though someone had arranged everything months ago and simply shut the door on its perfection ever since.

Yamaken set her bag on the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck, and Shizuku noted a bit of color on his ears. “Yamaken.” She reached out a hand, and he froze at her touch. “Thank you.”

His eyes widened, and he backed toward the door. “Sure.” He tripped over her bag, an oddly graceless move for Yamaken. He coughed. “I’ll... make that call. You get settled.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Shizuku sank to her knees. She heard his muffled voice in the living room, inquiring about delivery.

Her overnight bag sat between her and the door. A change of clothes. Some sweatpants. Her laptop, because she’d never be without it. It’s not like she had a lot of personal things at home, but — _home_. There was the lamp she and Haru had picked out last summer. She really liked it. And a beautifully bound set of law books from her mother, a gift for her graduation.

But right now. It seemed that, realistically, what she owned was in that bag.

She didn’t know she was crying until a tear let her know her cheek was still hot and swollen. “Pointless.” Shizuku stood, tossing the bag on the bed.

It was a trick her mother had taught her. _Unpack everything as soon as you get somewhere, no matter how many nights you’ll be staying. You’ll feel more settled. Home can be temporarily established._ She grabbed her toiletries bag and opened the door.

Yamaken was just tossing his phone onto a couch.

“Bathroom?” she asked.

He pointed down a hall without looking at her.

There was something therapeutic about emptying her bag into one of the small drawers in the bathroom. She wasn’t certain how easy it would be to shower with stitches in her face, but she set the bottles inside the glass anyway.

Yamaken was certainly sparse in his habits. Nothing on the sink but a soap dispenser. A single toothbrush stood upright in the medicine cabinet. Shizuku propped her own next to it.

Her eyes flicked up into the mirror. The swelling had gone down a fraction, but in its place seemed to be all the colors of the rainbow. Her right eye was black to her nose, and the stitches held together green skin. “I look like a pirate,” she whispered. She crooked a finger at her reflection. “Arr.”

A buzz sounded at the front door, and she walked out into the living room to see Yamaken accept a bag from a delivery girl. The flirtatious once-over from the young brunette wasn’t lost on Shizuku. Well, that was to be expected. Yamaken had always been charming, and the delivery girl would surely have a good idea how well off he was.

Yamaken was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the paper bag. He looked a bit lost.

“I normally just eat on the floor.” He gestured to a low table. “Sorry. Is that all right? I don’t usually have guests.”

“Makes sense, since you don’t cook.” Shizuku took the bag from him and began unpacking the hot meal. “Thanks for the meal.”

Yamaken seated himself cross-legged at the table. “Same cold Shizuku.” He helped himself to a bowl and chopsticks.

She sipped up some noodles thoughtfully. “How was that cold? As I said, I’m grateful for the meal. I can pay you, of course.”

He cocked his head at her and grinned. “You think since I don’t cook that I don’t ever have friends over?”

“You were the one who said you don’t usually have guests.” She reached for some pickled daikon. “But I can’t see you not having friends. So because you don’t have them over to your place, it must be because it’s easier to entertain out.”

“Did you and Haru entertain a lot?” Yamaken looked up. “In your home. Did you have people over a lot?”

Shizuku set down her bowl and leaned back on her hands. “He would have colleagues from the lab over. They’d drink and talk about their latest research.”

Yamaken rested his chin in his hand. “Sounds thrilling.”

“Oh, the conversations were stimulating enough.” She took a swig from a bottle of barley tea. “But I did prefer to have Natsume and Sasayan over. Natsume’s always a good time when she’s a little drunk.”

Yamaken raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really see you having much patience with drunk people.”

“It can be quite refreshing to hear the honesty of happily drunk people. Natsume is one of those who is quite charming when she’s had a few glasses.”

“Are you?”

Shizuku’s eyes flew open wide. “Am I… ?”

“Charming when you’re drunk?” Yamaken’s smirk was hidden behind his ramen bowl, but Shizuku could practically hear it.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t get drunk.”

He set his bowl down and leaned forward on the table. “That’s a shame. Shall we try before you leave?”

Shizuku dug her fingers into the plush carpet. “Try… ? Getting drunk?”

Yamaken watched her for a bit. Opened his mouth, and —

_Bzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzt._

He rolled to his side and stretched every inch to grab his phone off the couch. Shizuku watched his long-sleeved T-shirt slide up his abs, took note of his long, toned arms. He’d been a long piece of work in high school, and now...

“Shit.” Yamaken stood. “Gotta run.” He grabbed his bowl and headed over to the small kitchen. “Make yourself at home. You’ll probably be long asleep by the time I get back.”

He was leaving? But she thought… well, it would be getting dark soon. And not that she couldn’t be alone in the dark, it was just… the whole point of being here was to… minimize being alone, right?

The questions must have been radiating from her. Yamaken paused in the midst of shrugging on his jacket. “I traded a shift last minute with someone this afternoon,” he explained. “I’ll cover a few hours tonight. Be back at like three.”

“Three?” She felt rooted to the floor.

“Hey.” Yamaken squatted next to her unexpectedly. “Take care of yourself tonight. And if it helps you relax, there’s a lock on your door. So that’s one on the gate, one to get into the building, one for my front door, and one to get to your room.” He tapped her head as he listed each lock. “You’re safe here.”

He blushed, as though the line were corny. Shizuku, as noted by her heavy exhale, was okay with corny at the moment.

But he got to his feet. Paused at the door. A small smile, a wave, and he was gone.

* * *

 

She remained kneeling on the living room floor for — she didn’t know how long really — after Yamaken had left for his shift. The afternoon gold had faded from the walls, and she felt her usual confidence leave with the light.

The night before, she’d been numb. _Do this, go here, get stitches, be safe, get sleep._ Strung out on pain pills and ebbing adrenaline, Shizuku’s brain had effectively turned itself off with the lights. She’d slept badly in the hotel last night, but she’d slept.

Tonight.

Tonight wasn’t shaping up to be more of the same.

Shizuku stared sightlessly out a window that led onto a balcony. The city lights were popping on in groups here and there.

“You left your husband yesterday.” Her voice sounded too loud in the empty room. “Tell us, Yoshida-san, how do you feel?”

 _Empty._ She cocked her head. _In a good way?_

_Relieved._

_Sad._

_Ready._

_Scared._

“Scared?” Shizuku stood then. Walked up to the sliding glass doors of the balcony and addressed the city. “What can you be scared of?” She leaned her head against the glass. “You will figure this out. You always do,” she finished with a whisper.

* * *

 

It was 3:26 a.m. when Yamaken all but fell through the apartment’s front door. _So fucking tired._ In exchange for blowing off pretty much his entire day to be with a married woman, he’d had to promise to fill the rest of the day’s afternoon shift and keep his regular hours the following day. Right now all his life choices seemed to be…

He stopped five steps into the living room.

Shizuku was stretched out on the couch. Her laptop was open on her stomach.

Yamaken walked closer, following the impulses of a sleep-deprived brain. Shizuku’s hair was wrapped in one of his towels, and she’d dragged the duvet off of the guest room’s futon.

He knelt by the couch and reached for the laptop. Closed it, set it on the table where they’d had dinner.

She was still wearing the ratty hoodie she’d had on all day. _Have to show her where the laundry is._ Depending on how long she’d be here, she might need to get some new stuff. Or… s _he wouldn’t want to go back to her place to get anything — would she?_

Yamaken frowned. He wasn’t exactly certain how bad things were, but no one puts stitches in their face for the fun of it. The bruising had gotten worse throughout the day, he’d noticed. He gripped the couch frame. _What the hell is Haru doing?_

Shizuku sighed in her sleep.

 _You’re past this. You’re just… maybe a little lonely, but goddammit, ask out that RN, will you? Everyone says she’s nice._ Yamaken got to a knee.

Shizuku whimpered and ran a hand over the stitches in her face. She didn’t cry out, but her face contorted with discomfort. Yamaken grabbed her hand before she could rake her nails over the stitches that were no doubt itching as they healed.

She exhaled deeply once more, bringing his hand clutched in hers to her chest.

Adrenaline surged through Yamaken’s veins, but he didn’t yank his hand away. “Crap,” he whispered. “Never going to get any sleep like this.”

But he got up slowly and went to his room. Pulled the cover off his bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Yamaken had just enough time to think, _This is going to be the most uncomfortable—_ before he passed out against the couch, his head resting near Shizuku’s chest.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaken reached for the duvet and wrapped it around his shoulders, enveloping them both. “Bad dream?” he finally managed. She was too small to be trembling as hard as she was.
> 
> She was quiet for a bit. Then, softly, “I don’t want to leave Tokyo.”
> 
> He tucked her head under his chin. “You don’t have to do anything.”
> 
> “I’m going to work with Mom in New York. We planned it all out today.”
> 
> Yamaken forced himself not to tighten his grip. She wasn’t his, had never been his. If she left Tokyo or if she stayed, that wouldn’t change, but… “I don’t want you to leave Tokyo either.”

Light fell across her face, and Shizuku blinked awake. “Mmmm.” She moved to rub her eye, but… she looked down.

Yamaken’s hand was clutched in hers. The young doctor was curled up against the couch, resting his head on one arm, holding her hand with the other.

Shizuku sucked in a breath and reached up to her hair. The towel was loose but still wrapped around her head. She tugged it off and wiped her nose and mouth quickly.

“Oi. Yamaken.” She tapped his head.

“Mmf.” He peered up at her through one barely open eye. Shizuku watched as horror dawned on his face. “Oh god oh god oh god.” Yamaken scrambled for the phone at his side. Exhaled in relief. “Twenty minutes. I can do that.” He jumped to his feet and ran into his room, slamming the door.

Shizuku sat in stunned silence, listening to the muffled bangs and curses. _No reaction to actually… sleeping next to me? Just… he’s worried that he’s_ late _?_

Her cheek throbbed, and she gingerly felt around the stitches. Not as puffy, but… Shizuku threw off the blanket and shuffled into the bathroom. Flicked the light on.

Her gasp was audible.

Hair that was normally straight as spider’s silk was bent and curled and waved in all sorts of unusual places. Shizuku leaned close to the mirror in disbelief. “This is why people don’t fall asleep in towels,” she muttered. And her right cheek was, without question, green. Possibly with a bit of yellow thrown in. “You look —”

Yamaken rushed into the bathroom. “Mind if I brush my teeth?”

She stared at him, her fingertips frozen at her cheek. He’d been dead to the world two minutes ago, and now he could walk on set for a fashion shoot. Smooth blond hair pulled back in the tiniest ponytail, tight black jeans, and a light-blue, long-sleeved T-shirt.

Shizuku pretended to play with her hair that fell over her cheek. She kept her head down and tried to brush past him.

“Oi.” Yamaken grabbed her hand and brushed her hair from her face. He examined her, frowning. “Today’s probably going to be the worst for bruising,” he said. “But you should be able to start spreading your pain pills out a bit longer.”

He still gripped her wrist, and Shizuku stared into those cat-like eyes. Slowly, awareness crept over his face. He took a step closer, and his hand cupped her cheek with a feather-light touch. He was so tall. Shizuku tilted her head back to keep looking into his eyes.

“Um…”

 _Say something. Now._ “You’re leaving again? You couldn’t have gotten more than four hours of sleep,” she commented.

The spell broke. Yamaken stepped back. “My regular shift. I’ll be back this evening — in the meantime…” He tugged at the strings on her hoodie. “The laundry’s in a closet in the back of my room. Gym’s downstairs, pool’s on the roof.”

He dropped his hand and picked up his toothbrush. Shizuku sniffed at the neck of her hoodie. It wasn’t offensive, but she didn’t exactly smell fresh either. “I don’t have a swimsuit,” she said, to acknowledge that he hadn’t only informed her about the laundry.

“Mm!” Yamaken wiped his mouth. “I wondered if you might need some things. We can go shopping tomorrow, if you like.”

Shizuku waved a hand. “You don’t have to. I’ll call Natsume if I decide to shop.” She walked out of the bathroom. “Besides, I don’t think I really need a swimsuit while I’m here.”

“Your choice, I guess.” Yamaken followed her into the living room and grabbed his jacket from where he’d dropped it on the floor the night before. “I have zero problem helping you find a swimsuit though.”

Shizuku spun around, eyes wide.

Yamaken met her gaze without expression. “Or anything else that you’d need. Of course.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, “Of course.”

He grinned, his hand on the doorknob of the apartment. “Bye, study bug.”

The door had been closed for a good thirty seconds before Shizuku managed to squeak out, “Bye.”

* * *

 

Shizuku crossed her arms, listening to the hum of Yamaken’s tiny washing machine. In total, she’d managed to stuff into her overnight case a pair of leggings, the aforementioned hoodie, a pair of sweatpants, a couple pairs of socks, and one T-shirt. That was, of course, in addition to the pantsuit she’d worn to the hospital.

She was considering throwing the suit away entirely. It seemed wasteful, but she could barely bring herself to look at it. Against the label’s instructions, it too was in the washing machine. If it survived, she’d save it. If she ruined it, so be it.

Not being entirely comfortable with walking around Yamaken’s apartment in the nude — even if she was all alone — Shizuku was wearing a robe she’d found on the back of his bedroom door. The hem almost reached her ankles.

She pushed the sleeves up to use her phone. Selected a familiar contact.

“Mitty, my love!”

Shizuku held the phone away from her ear but allowed herself a small smile. “Hi, Natsume. You busy?”

“No, no, no — _Souhei! It’s Mitty! Watch the shrimp!_ — how are you???”

 _Oh. Oh god. What do I say?_ “Pretty good. Listen, I know you’re probably working tomorrow, but do you wanna meet me for lunch?”

A sharp inhale on the other end of the line made Shizuku cringe. She really didn’t ask her friends out often enough. “Yes! Yes, I want to!” Natsume’s enthusiasm reigned supreme. “Where? When?”

Guilt twisted in her stomach. _I’ll… I’ll tell her tomorrow. Everything._ “I actually have to do some shopping. You know how bad I am at this sort of thing. Any chance you can take a long lunch, meet me at the mall?” _That’s it, she_ has _to know something’s fucked up._

Natsume paused. “That’s usually not a problem. You, ah, shopping for anything special?”

Shizuku closed her eyes. Clenched her jaw. “Just clothes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Does noon work for you?”

“Sure, sure, yes.” But Shizuku could hear a tiny bit of worry creep into her friend’s voice. _Dammit, this is what I get for being antisocial. Everything is suspicious._ “Well. I —”

“Natsume.” Shizuku said suddenly. “I’m… I’m really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Natsume gave a surprised laugh. “Me too! Me too, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mitty!”

After she closed the call, Shizuku stared at her phone for several seconds. _You never did anything to deserve this type of a friend._ She shoved the phone in the robe’s pocket.

* * *

 

Shizuku pushed the robe’s sleeves up to her elbows as she sat at the low table in the living room. First, an email to her supervisor.

_Asahi-san,_   
_A family emergency requires me to work from home for the coming week. The following week, I’ve been called to New York to be with my mother. I’ve updated my calendar with a list of goals I’ll be accomplishing in the meantime. I will be available during normal business hours online or by phone._   
  
_Please contact with me any questions,_

_-Yoshida Shizuku_

Shizuku bit her lip at the white lies. Perhaps she should stop by the office tomorrow before she met Natsume. _Still._ She hit Send.

Then, a quick text to her mother.

 _You free for a video chat in an hour? Would like to get some details in order._  It should still be relatively early in the evening for the New York City attorney.

True to form, her mother was never far away from her phone. _7pm EST. I’ve looked at plane tickets. We can discuss._

 

* * *

 

Shizuku’s head was in the refrigerator when she heard the jingle of a video chat coming in from her laptop.

She hurried over to the low table, setting her grocery list next to the computer. “Hi, Mom.” Damn. She still got butterflies whenever she spoke with her mother.

A beautiful, mature woman with long brown hair narrowed her eyes on the screen. “That bastard.”

Shizuku covered her stitches with a hand. “Please. Mom.”

Mizutani pursed her lips. “I wondered if it was something like this. So you want out, hm?”

Shizuku squared her shoulders. “It’s time. And you’ve been saying we need to move to New York for years. What if it were just me?”

“Just you? You’re the one I want in our firm, not Haru. That hasn’t changed. So this…” She waved a hand at the screen. “Is a nonissue, as far as I’m concerned.” Mizutani sat back, taking a swig of amber liquid from a short, fat glass. “Does he match you?”

“Mm. Huh?”

“Haru. Is his face split open too?”

Shizuku ducked her head, letting her hair fall over the cut. “Don’t say unnecessary things.”

“All I’m asking is if the man paid for his sins.”

“Mom!” Shizuku didn’t know if she felt most like laughing or crying. “I took myself to the hospital, and I threw some things in a bag, and I moved out. I don’t… I don’t hit people.”

Mizutani was quiet. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Shizuku successfully stopped a gasp, but her eyes were probably wide as saucers.

“I’ve never left a man,” Mizutani continued. “Well, I’ve also never looked like _that_. Your father, in his charming uselessness, never did anything to make me consider leaving.”

Tears welled in Shizuku’s eyes. “I’ve failed,” she choked out.

“You’ve succeeded,” Mizutani corrected. “How old are those stitches? A day?”

“Thirty-four hours.” _Who knows to the hour how long they’ve had stitches?_

“And you’re already on to your next step.” Mizutani nodded in approval. “Have you been in touch with your firm yet?”

“Sent them an email.” Shizuku felt a bit more on solid ground with the change of subject. “I’m planning to stop in tomorrow to hand in my formal resignation. I’ll probably still have some loose ends to wrap up in New York next week though.”

“Mm. Of course. Oh, I found a few different options for tickets…”

* * *

 

Shizuku sniffed the air appreciatively. Nothing makes a more comforting smell faster than onions cooking in oil. She swished the pieces around the pan with some chopsticks.

There hadn’t been much in Yamaken’s kitchen to be getting on with. She’d started a list of pantry items to get while she was out with Natsume tomorrow. But she’d managed to find a cabbage that didn’t smell too off, some green onions that still had a bit of snap to them, and a package of — she sighed — ramen noodles.

Shizuku was now fairly convinced it was what the young doctor subsisted on.

“Yakisoba it is.”

Well. A very poor yakisoba, but it would do.

She had just added a bit of ginger (powdered. The jar had been hiding behind a case of beer in the refrigerator, of all places) when she heard the lock on the front door beep.

Shizuku froze, chopsticks poised over the pan. _Will you stop? Of course it’s Yamaken, no one else even knows where you are._

She heard shoes fall to the floor in the entryway and forced herself not to turn around as soft steps padded into the kitchen. But there was no greeting when the steps came to a halt a few feet behind her.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Shizuku finally whirled around. “Well, were you going to say anything?”

Yamaken stood there in his stocking feet. His head was cocked to the side, and most of his hair had come free from his ponytail. Purple smudges were showing underneath his eyes. But he still managed a scowl.

“I said you didn’t have to cook, didn’t I?”

Shizuku turned back to her saute pan. “I’m tired of you waving your wallet around. And the veggies were going to go bad if you didn’t use them soon.”

“If I’m waving my wallet around, it’s because I don’t know any other way to take care of… a guest.”

She glanced over her shoulder in time to catch Yamaken throwing himself onto the couch. She flicked off the stovetop and walked over. “You look terrible,” she said, bracing her arms against the back of the couch.

Yamaken peeked at her from underneath an arm. “Hilarious, coming from you.” He covered his eyes again. “Smells great, by the way.”

Shizuku wondered if her bruise changed color when she blushed. “I meant, you look tired. You should go to bed early tonight.”

“Mm.” He sounded half asleep now. “What’d you do today? Got cabin fever yet?”

Shizuku looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. The day had gone fast — it had been easy to feel productive in the high-rise, tucked away from reality for awhile. It had been… peaceful. And she’d felt relaxed. And safe.

“Not bad. I’m going out with Natsume tomorrow.”

Yamaken lifted his arm to stare with both eyes. “You’re going out.”

“To celebrate the fact that I did laundry today.” Shizuku gestured to her T-shirt and sweatpants. “As you can see.”

Yamaken swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “She’s coming to the restaurant downstairs, right?”

Shizuku felt a flash of annoyance. “No. How would she get past the gate? I’m meeting her at the mall, actually.”

“The mall. When?”

She tried to walk calmly back to the kitchen. “You’ll be working, no doubt.”

“Shizuku.” She heard him follow her. “Let’s go sometime when I can go with you.”

She expertly slid half the noodles onto one plate, half onto another. “I’ve already asked Natsume. And I don’t need you there when I’m buying personal things.” She faced him and handed him a plate.

Yamaken’s ears were pink. “Look, I know you don’t _need_ me.” He met her eyes. “But the whole point of this is for you to be careful.” He turned back to the table, cursing under his breath.

When Shizuku joined him with her own plate, he looked at her. “You going to tell Natsume?” Yamaken glanced at her split cheek.

“I don’t see that I have a choice,” Shizuku answered primly. “It’s a fairly obvious part of my face these days.”

Yamaken swirled his noodles restlessly. “Good. Then you can both be on the lookout. And I was thinking today…” He shifted to pull his phone from his back pocket. “Do you still have my number? It hasn’t changed.”

“Mine neither.” She watched him enter a text message. _That’s right. I’ve had his number all this time._ She sucked on her chopsticks. _Wonder if… he would’ve ever answered…?_

Her phone lit up just as she nearly choked on her thoughts.

“Those are the keys to the three locks,” Yamaken was saying. “Not the most secure thing I’ve ever done, but I’d rather you have them when you need them than not be able to get back inside.”

Shizuku stared at the numbers on her screen. She picked up her phone, stood, and walked around behind Yamaken.

“Shizuku?”

She knelt behind him and, before she could change her mind, gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Yamaken stilled, then, slowly, reached a hand up to her forearm. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I felt so safe today.”

Shizuku felt him inhale deeply. He reached behind with his free hand and smoothed her hair. She let her chin rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Yamaken shifted on the floor, and then he was facing her. He took her face in both of his hands, sweeping a thumb gently underneath her bruises. “I’m glad.” The statement was simple, his voice a little raw.

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds more, and Shizuku found herself remembering other intimate glances from those eyes. And her own flustered reactions. Years ago.

She exhaled softly. “I’ve, um, I’ve got a grocery list on the fridge.”

Yamaken blinked.

“So. So add to it if there’s anything you want me to pick up.” Shizuku took his hands from her face and held them for the briefest moment. “I’ll, uh, say good night then.”

“Ah.” Yamaken swallowed. “‘Night.”

She felt his eyes on her as she closed the guest room door.

* * *

 

Yamaken took off his glasses and sat up straight. He could have sworn he heard…

but silence met his ears.

He looked back down at the paperwork strewn across the table. It was past midnight, and he really should be getting to bed if he was going to be worth anything in the morn—

The choked sob was too loud this time to be a trick of his imagination.

Yamaken was at her door before he could weigh the consequences. He knocked once, twice, but the whimpering only continued. He tried the knob, and thank god, she hadn’t locked it.

“Shizuku,” he whispered, entering quickly.

She was curled into a ball on the futon, the duvet on the floor, her pillow clutched to her chest. Dear god, she was shaking.

Yamaken knelt next to her, and the tears covering her face tore his mind into shreds. “Shizuku, no, no, no,” he hushed gently. He scooped her into his arms and sat on the bed, cradling her. “Please, please.”

Her eyes opened into puffy slits, and she buried her face in her hands as soon as she realized who held her. “God. Yamaken. I’m sorry.”

“No.” His voice was rough. “No, you’re not sorry.” Yamaken reached for the duvet and wrapped it around his shoulders, enveloping them both. “Bad dream?” he finally managed. She was too small to be trembling as hard as she was.

She was quiet for a bit. Then, softly, “I don’t want to leave Tokyo.”

He tucked her head under his chin. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m going to work with Mom in New York. We planned it all out today.”

Yamaken forced himself not to tighten his grip. She wasn’t his, had never been his. If she left Tokyo or if she stayed, that wouldn’t change, but… “I don’t want you to leave Tokyo either.” It was selfish. Childish even. But they were both exhausted, and he couldn’t be blamed for spouting nonsense in front of Mizutani Shizuku as broken as he’d ever seen her.

She was silent again but still shivered occasionally. He settled for repeating, “You don’t have to do anything.”

It was several minutes more before she stopped shaking completely. Yamaken swept aside her bangs and saw she’d fallen back to sleep. Her face was unlined. As though she were truly resting.

Spent, Yamaken let himself fall slowly back onto the futon with Shizuku cocooned against him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You, Mitty, need to go shopping,” Natsume insisted archly. “Buy some new underwear and something decent to sleep in. Then get that man in bed properly.”
> 
> “Properly?!” Shizuku choked. “You’re encouraging me to have sex with someone I just met, the week I’ve left my husband?”
> 
> “Not at all.” Natsume flipped her hair over a shoulder. “I’m encouraging you to buy yourself some nice things and take care of yourself after a long-coming break-up with your ex.”
> 
> “And trying to seduce Yamaken is taking care of myself.”
> 
> Natsume grinned, and Shizuku wondered not for the first time which of them was the more worldly. “I’m only here to help, Mitty darling.”

Shizuku tugged her hoodie down over her leggings as she seated herself at the cafe. It was the one outfit she had that was halfway presentable in public. Her suit had, indeed, been ruined in the wash.

She ordered a tea and took out a notebook while she waited for Natsume. Sucked the tip of her pen before she wrote:

_-Suit_

She needed to stop in at the firm today. She had to hand in her two weeks’ notice. And you couldn’t just waltz into Nishimura & Asahi in sweatpants.

_-Casual skirt_

Shizuku had never lost her penchant for dressing more formally than style required. Two days in leggings had her practically breaking out in hives. And in quick succession:

_-Two (2) tops_

_-Light jacket_

_-Plain flats_

She tapped her pen on the table. That should really do it. Just a few things that could be mixed and matched. Enough for a week. She would no doubt buy more in New York.

_“You don’t have to do anything.”_

Shizuku froze as the words flooded her mind. She wiped a hand over her mouth, remembering last night. She’d barely been conscious when Yamaken took her into his arms and whispered for her not to cry. Even now the overwhelming sadness of leaving her beloved Tokyo settled heavily in her heart, and she blinked back tears.

“Your tea, miss.”

Shizuku reached for the steaming mug, but her mind was seeing light blonde hair fall over sleepily concerned eyes. She’d fallen back to sleep almost as soon as he’d wrapped them both in her blankets. She hadn’t woken again until he discreetly moved her off his chest in the early gray morning.

He’d swept her hair away from her stitches, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and crawled out from under the covers without a word. She’d lain awake, a hand to her forehead, until she heard the apartment’s front door click shut.

“Mitty?!”

Shizuku glanced up, hand still over her mouth.

Nastume Asako slipped into the seat across from her, thick brown hair bouncing with the energy of her movement. “How are y—?! Oh…” Natsume’s eyes flicked to Shizuku’s cheek. “Oh. Oh my.” She reached out a hand but drew her fingers back before she touched the stitches. “Oh, Mitty, what did you do to yourself?”

Shizuku swallowed and offered a tentative smile. No lies. No brushing this under the table. But god, it was embarrassing and… the questions would be… _You asked her to come out. You made her take time off of work, and she did. Without question._ Deep breath. “Well. You see…”

“Does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? Is that why you asked me to meet you? The station’s just around the—”

“No, no! No.” Shizuku held up both hands. “This… this is a couple days old.” She tried the smile again, wondered if it made the stitches crinkle strangely. “And the only thing I need your help with is, I promise, picking out some clothes. You were always so much better—”

“Mitty.” Natsume crossed her arms, an aggressive gesture that caused an approaching server to back off. “If you don’t tell me what’s up with your face _this minute_ , I swear to fucking god…”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Shizuku hissed. Embarrassment colored her cheeks. “It’s… I… augh. Haru and I separated.”

Natsume’s eyes went from narrowed slits to wide as teacup saucers. Her mouth formed a perfectly tiny _O_.

“He threw something at me a couple days ago. Not because he was mad or anything,” Shizuku found herself babbling, “he was just… pissed about something at work, I think. Anyway, this has happened before — well, you know.” She fiddled with her mug. It was true. Their friends had been seeing Haru lose his temper in epic fashion for years. “And I just. I took myself to get cleaned up and I went back and I packed my case and I left.” She blew out a breath. “And here we are.”

Natsume sat back in her chair as though Shizuku had slapped her. “Ohhhh, Mitty.” She shot up out of her seat and threw herself onto her knees at Shizuku’s side. “I’m so sorry!” Her arms wrapped around Shizuku’s waist, and she buried her nose in her hoodie. “ _Stupid_ Haru, _stupid_ man, how _could_ he?!”

Shizuku patted Natsume’s shoulder awkwardly. She caught a waiter’s eye and nodded. “Tea, Natsume? Or should we order lunch right away?”

Natsume stared at her from where she knelt on the floor. “Tea? _Lunch?_ You just told me —!”

“She’ll have a hot green tea, please.”

Natsume made no move to release Shizuku’s waist, let alone go back to her own chair. “Mitty is always so calm,” she whispered.

Shizuku bit her lip but let her arm rest across Natsume’s shoulders. Her friend’s sensitivity, her loyalty, her huge heart — this was why she had reached out to her. Awkward scenes in cafes be damned. “I’ve had a couple days to get used to the idea,” she replied quietly. “You should have seen me that night.”

Natsume looked up. “Oh my god, what did you do? Were you scared?”

“Are you comfortable like that?” Shizuku pointed at her friend’s knees.

“Oh. Ew.” Natsume stood, brushing off her pink tights.

As they sipped their tea, Shizuku relayed the night her marriage… what? Shattered? Too dramatic. Unraveled? But nothing was woven up neatly to begin with. Ended? Probably? She grimaced as she talked about how it felt to get stitches in her face. A couple tears trickled out as she narrated packing her bags. And how the hotel was cold, but she’d been too numb to get out of bed to turn the heat up.

“MItty, you’re still in a hotel?” Natsume reached out to touch her hand. “You know you can stay with Souhei and me. There’s no need to wake up alone right now.”

Shizuku flushed. “W-well.”

Natsume’s eyes went wide. “Well. Well, what? _Who are you staying with that isn’t me?!_ ”

“Ah.” Shizuku glanced at the floor, the ceiling, her tea. “So I ran into someone I knew who works at Yamaguchi Hospital. And they’ve, ah, offered me a guestroom.”

Natsume cocked her head. “Someone who works at… oh. _Oh._ ” She leaned forward, practically flat against the cafe table. “Mizutani Shizuku,” she hissed. “Oh, you _aren’t_.”

Shizuku felt her shoulders rise up to her ears. “He’s a doctor.”

“You don’t need to stay with a doctor.” But Natsume's eyes were sparkling.

“His apartment is very secure.”

“Is your _guestroom_ secure?”

“Natsume!”

“Are you _sleeping_ with him?” Natsume was all but crawling over the table.

“ _I am not having sex with someone I haven’t seen in three years_ ,” Shizuku whispered hotly.

Natsume’s eyebrows shot up. “Not because you’re still technically married? Not because you’ve already rejected Yamaken? Twice?” She propped her chin in her hands. “Are you thinking about it?”

“Natsume, I swear—!” Shizuku caught herself. “Yamaken is a very attractive man. He’s… quite stunning these days actually. However.” She held up a hand to halt her friend’s squeal. “It would be the height of the ridiculous to even think of starting something intimate with a boy I used to know in high school.”

“A boy who asked you out, not once, but twice.” Natsume’s grin was evil. “A poor little rich boy who never got over the cold study bug who chose the other poor little rich boy.”

It was Shizuku’s turn to narrow her eyes. “High-school foolishness. Of course Yamaken’s moved on.”

“Sure, sure. And now you’re living together.”

Shizuku sighed. “Anything would sound dirty if you put it like that.”

“Does Haru know?” All teasing vanished from Natsume’s voice.

Shizuku was quiet for a bit. “That’s why I’m taking advantage of Yamaken’s offer. Haru showed up at my hotel room the second night I was there.”

Natsume gripped her hand hard.

“They told him.” Shizuku laughed. “The fucking hotel clerk fucking told my ex-husband that I was staying there. Damn well gave him the room number. Yes, Yamaken mentioned his super-secure apartment, and I jumped.”

Natsume quirked an eyebrow. “Your ex-husband.”

“He is.” Shizuku slipped her hand out from underneath Natsume’s and crossed her arms. “I’m tired of his bullshit. I’m tired of being the only adult in a relationship.”

“So. So you’re done?”

Shizuku covered her eyes with a hand. “I know you always liked Haru.”

“No, no, Mitty.” Natsume leaned forward. “What? That has nothing to do with this.”

Shizuku took a shuddering breath. “You were always the one who… who cheered us on the most.”

“Shut up.” Natsume sniffled. “I’m cheering you on now too, stupid Mitty.”

Shizuku chewed on her lower lip. Picked up a menu. “Cheering me on to what though?” she asked quietly.

Natsume tugged the menu gently from her fingers. Shizuku watched in astonishment as she beckoned a waiter over with a smile. “We’ll have the donburi, thank you.”

Shizuku stared at her friend. What was with Natsume being confident and put together and making decisions while Shizuku sniffled and cringed and hugged a cold mug of tea?

Natsume handed her a napkin. “I’m cheering on my dear friend to her next steps. And you need to blow your nose, babe.”

Horrified, Shizuku dabbed at her nose.

“So.” Natsume rested her elbows on the table. “We’re shopping today because you weren’t thinking when you packed up.” She scanned Shizuku’s rather collegiate-looking attire. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a sweatshirt before when you weren’t sick.”

“Oh.” Shizuku pushed her notebook across the table. “I wasn’t lying when I said I really do need your help. Is this enough for the next week do you think?”

Natsume perused the list. “What happens in a week?”

Shizuku froze. “I, ah. I’m going to meet Mom in New York.”

Natsume’s head snapped up.

“Just for a few days,” Shizuku said quickly. “We’re going to figure out next steps. And I just need to get away for a while. You know?” _Damn, I’m such a liar, I am lying, I am a lying liar._ The next steps were already planned. Move to New York, work in Mizutani’s firm, pretend she’d never been married ever — the plan had been her lifeline these last couple days.

The waiter brought their meals, and both women stared at the bowls without seeing them.

_“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”_

_No. No, I don’t. And… it’s illogical to move permanently to New York on the first visit anyway._  

“Wow.” Natsume tapped the notebook with a perfectly painted nail. “Anything else you’re not telling me?” She was trying for casual and light, but Shizuku knew her friend. _All or nothing. You owe her honesty._

“Actually, yes.” Shizuku selected a bite of donburi with her chopsticks, trying to hide a smile. “I slept with Yamaken last night.”

After their server brought Natsume a fresh pair of chopsticks and topped up her spilled water glass, Shizuku qualified, “ _Slept._ I was crying in my sleep, and he stayed with me. Got up with his alarm and went to work. End of story.”

Lips pursed, Natsume grabbed Shizuku’s pen and scribbled on the shopping list. She whipped it around. Shizuku read:

_-Something NICE to sleep in!!!_

_-And some new underwear wouldn’t hurt!!!  (=^・^=)_

Shizuku blushed to the roots of her hair. “I have enough underwear.”

“You, Mitty, need to go shopping,” Natsume insisted archly. “Buy some new underwear and something decent to sleep in. Then get that man in bed _properly._ ”

“Properly?!” Shizuku choked. “You’re encouraging me to have sex with someone I just met, the week I’ve left my husband?”

“Not at all.” Natsume flipped her hair over a shoulder. “I’m encouraging you to buy yourself some nice things and take care of yourself after a long-coming break-up with your ex.”

“And trying to seduce Yamaken is taking care of myself.”

Natsume grinned, and Shizuku wondered not for the first time which of them was the more worldly. “I’m only here to help, Mitty darling.”

Even as her face turned a brighter shade of red, Shizuku had to laugh. She doubted they would ever call each other by their married names — no doubt they’d remain Mitty and Natsume until doomsday. 

* * *

 

 

Shizuku threw two bags and three packages onto the floor of Yamaken’s guestroom, heaving a huge sigh. Shopping with Natsume was… an experience.

She couldn’t bring herself to purchase lingerie, but there had been a cream silk pajama set that caught her eye. Natsume had sighed, said there was no helping it, and bought it for her.

She ran a hand over the slick material. It really was lovely.

In ten minutes, Shizuku was settling into a chaise lounge on the balcony, silk pajamas on, a glass of decent sake in her hand.

The sun was setting. A few lights were popping on in the neighborhood. The air was chilly but not enough so to make her get up and drag out a blanket.

Shizuku swirled her sake. She’d stopped in at Nishimura & Asahi on the way back to the apartment. Stowed her packages with the office assistant — who only gave the mall shop logos a mild side eye — and met briefly with her supervisor.

They’d refused her resignation.

Shizuku took a sip, recalling the nervous look on the man’s face. “Nonsense, Yoshida-san,” he’d stammered, his gaze flicking to her stitches. “It sounds like you just need a vacation. Everyone starts to fall apart when they work too hard. There’s no need to quit.”

She leaned her head back on the lounge. Not for the first time, she’d wondered if it was the Yoshida family name that had got her into such a prestigious firm fresh out of law school. She wasn’t very high up the ladder, of course, but — she frowned — Asahi-san hadn’t so much as mentioned the stitches on her face.

_Everyone knows._

Shizuku touched the stitches with light fingers. The pain was pretty much gone. The skin just felt a little tight.

Between his father’s many affairs and Haru’s notorious temper, the Yoshida family had quite a reputation in certain circles. Shizuku frowned into her empty sake cup. And because of the family’s money, those circles tended to be elevated in the business world. She still wasn’t certain how far the Yoshida influence went. Possibly even beyond Tokyo.

“I should have brought the bottle outside,” she groused.

The bottle settled with a clink on the table at her side.

Shizuku glanced up with a start.

Yamaken smirked at her. “Nice choice. I helped myself, hope you don’t mind.” He raised a glass at her.

“... I saw it in a shop window. The label was interesting.” Shizuku watched him lie back on the lounge on the other side of the small table.

“You pick sake based on the label?” Yamaken _tsk_ ed. “Why am I surprised.”

“And yet you’re drinking it, I note.” She crossed her arms.

“What can I say? You lucked into a good one.” Yamaken glanced over at her. “Nice pajamas too. Did you pick them out or did Natsume?”

Shizuku stood quickly. “I did. Gonna go get a blanket.”

When she returned, her duvet wrapped firmly around her shoulders, Yamaken was grinning at her over his drink. “You didn’t want me to see you in your new outfit so badly?”

Shizuku sat back on her lounge. “If you hadn’t made a big deal out of it, you could have looked as much as you wanted.”

He leaned an elbow on his chair’s arm and propped his chin in his hands. “As much as I wanted?”

“Have you eaten?” she asked primly. “I only ask because I’m not cooking.”

Yamaken fought his grin. “And you were worried about me? I had dinner at the hospital not long ago. You?”

“Onigiri on the train ride home.”

Yamaken looked out over the city view. “Home, huh.”

Shizuku blanched. “Well. In the sense that you’d say that about, you know, a hotel room.”

“Ah.” Yamaken leaned back to sip his drink. “So you’ll call New York home pretty quickly then.”

She was quiet for a bit. Then, “Bartender. I’ll have another.” She shook her empty glass at him.

Yamaken laughed, and the sound spread warmth through her chest. Of course she noticed that he brushed her fingers when he took her glass. “How is Natsume?” he asked, handing her a fresh drink.

Shizuku inhaled the sweetness of the sake. “Sweet. Supportive. Lovely. What she’s always been. Some people don’t change.”

“Not to be distastefully philosophical, but who do you think has been changing around here?”

She shot him a sharp look, but he was gazing out over the city again. “You think you haven’t?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Not fair to answer a question with a question, but I’ll play along. In some ways, yes. In others, no. For example, I’m fairly good with directions now.”

Shizuku barked out a laugh. “You? I was pretty sure getting lost was in your DNA. How ever do you manage?”

Yamaken arched his back to reach into the pocket of his jeans. Shizuku’s mouth went dry. “This.” He waggled his phone at her. “Smart phones, a boon to the directionally challenged everywhere.”

“You’re saying your major life change is that you can handle directions. And you’re attributing that to a phone.”

“I’ve also worked hard at my career as a pediatrician,” he pointed out.

“I bet you still think the world is divided into smart people and stupid people.” Was the sake making her devolve into childhood? “I bet you still think you’re one of the smart ones.”

“Well, that’s because both of those things are true.”

“Psh. You haven’t changed.” Shizukuk set her glass on the table and curled up in the duvet.

Yamaken studied her. “It is noteworthy, I think, how so many… foundational thoughts never change.”

Her eyelids felt so heavy. “Stop talking like an over-educated doctor, Yamaken.”

“For example, even in high school, I was fairly certain that I would never meet anyone like you again.”

She opened one eye. She wanted to warn him not to say anything dangerous, anything that would break the careful spell they’d crafted. But…

Yamaken laughed quietly. “How did I know that? As a naive high schooler, how did I know that you were the only one of your kind?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shizuku whispered.

"Has Haru changed, do you think?"

Shizuku shifted. "What a question."

"Did I make you uncomfortable?"

She eyed him with a level gaze. "Haru hasn't changed. If anything, he's the more authentic of the two of us."

"You think so?"

"He's always shown me, everyone, exactly who he is."

"So what about Mizutani Shizuku? Are you the one who's changing then?" His voice was soft.

Shizuku huddled deeper into her duvet shell. “Mizutani Shizuku is too drunk to be thinking this deeply.”

She heard a rustle and lifted the blanket for a peek.

Yamaken was squatting in front of her lounge. He rested his long arms on his knees, and his brown eyes regarded her calmly. “Unless you’ve had a lot more than the sake in this bottle, you’re not drunk.” He flashed a grin. “We promised to get drunk together, didn’t we?”

Shizuku covered her mouth with the duvet. “Did we?”

“Say, you haven’t taken any pain meds today, have you?” he asked suddenly.

“N-no. Not since yester—”

Yamaken blew out a sigh of relief. “I should have asked that before I just handed you the bottle.”

“I’m not an idiot, Yamaken, thanks. And I’m not your patient.”

“You’re my guest,” he countered. His eyes softened. “And my friend. I should have been more careful.”

Shizuku swallowed hard. He was so close. She caught a hint of an antiseptic smell coming from the T-shirt under his jacket. _Speaking of being careful._

Yamaken reached up and swept his thumb lightly underneath her stitches. “We could take these out tomorrow, you know.”

She wondered if he would think the heat in her face was from her healing skin. “Don’t I have to see my own doctor for that?”

“You can if you want to.” He didn’t move his hand. “Honestly, you could take them out yourself. I just figured that, you know, I’m here, and I’m a doctor…”

Shizuku batted his hand away. “You really love pointing that out.”

“Only because it could save you a trip to the hospital, I swear. It’s certainly not because I have a strong desire to help you or particularly feel the need to impress you in any way.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now who’s drunk?”

“Trust me.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the chaise, and Shizuku’s eyes went wide. “If I were drunk,” he whispered, inches from her face, “I’d be saying a lot more dumb shit than that.”

He stood abruptly, and he might as well have taken Shizuku’s breath with him. “I have some work to wrap up in my room. You could probably sleep out here if you want to, but I wouldn’t risk some early mosquitoes. ‘Night, Shizuku.”

The balcony was quiet for the next twenty minutes.

Then, a shaky hand darted out from under the blanket and snatched the half-empty sake bottle. Nobody was around to hear the glugging sounds.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I’ve never thought of you as Yoshida-san.” He smiled but there was no humor in it. “You would have to directly tell me to say it.”
> 
> “And if I did, would you?”
> 
> “It would be one of the least pleasant things to come out of my mouth.” Yamaken grinned. “Right up there with, ‘Congratulations on your marriage.’”
> 
> Shizuku clenched her jaw to keep from reacting.
> 
> “But to answer your question, yes. Of course. You may recall I said congratulations as well. And if you don’t, then you may take my word for it because I certainly remember.”
> 
> “Stop, please.” She had meant to sound stronger, but her words were a whisper. She took a sip of wine so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I never meant to make anything so unpleasant for you.”

Shizuku awoke shivering, a kink in her neck.

“Bluh.” Her mouth tasted full of cotton. She sat up. The city lights twinkled against a night that would never be truly black. The duvet was on the floor of the balcony, next to her lounge. She swiped at her phone.

_3:06 a.m._

“Idiot.” _No wonder you’re freezing._ Shizuku scooped up the blanket, and an empty sake bottle rolled out. “Really. An idiot.” She wrapped herself up, letting the blanket trail after her into the apartment.

The apartment was, of course, dark as pitch. A faint light shown underneath Yamaken’s door. He couldn’t possibly be awake, could he? Shizuku paused in front of it.

It had been so comforting, the night before. She missed sleeping with someone.

She reached out. Rested her fingertips on the door.

_Bed, Shizuku. Not this one. Not tonight._

She didn’t even bother brushing her teeth before she collapsed on the guestroom’s futon.

* * *

 

“Shizuku?” Knock knock. “Shizuku, it’s past 10. You hungry?”

Jerking awake, Shizuku stared at the door. Light was streaming through the window, and _god, could my mouth taste any worse?_ “S-sorry! Out in a minute!”

Yamaken laughed. “No rush.” His voice faded away. “I ordered breakfast. Should be here soon.”

Shizuku stood and instantly put a hand to her head. A decent hangover was making itself known. “O-out in a minute,” she whispered again. She glanced in the small dressing table mirror. Silk pajamas look excellent while relaxing on a luxury balcony, but they appeared to be a little worse for the wear after a drunken night’s sleep.

She swooped her hair into a high bun, smoothed out her top’s wrinkles as best she could, and tried to hold her head high as she walked out into the living room.

Yamaken was lounging on the couch. He glanced up from his phone. “Whoa. Rough night?”

Shizuku shuffled into the kitchen. “You keep coffee, right?”

“I make horrible coffee.”

Shizuku sighed, shutting a cupboard she’d opened. “I’ll bet. So you just don’t drink it then?”

“I order some with breakfast.” Yamaken let his phone fall to his chest and craned his neck to look back at her.

“You order your coffee every day.” She leaned against a counter and folded her arms. “Instead of learning to make it properly.”

“You’re not very intimidating, looking like that. I noticed the bottle outside. You drank the rest of it yourself?”

Shizuku looked at the wall. “There wasn’t much left. It would have been a waste.”

“I have a seal. It would have been fine in the fridge.”

“You have a bottle seal, but no coffee.”

“Shizuku.” Yamaken stood and walked to her. “I like nice things, and I’m rather awful at doing simple tasks.” He rested an elbow on the counter next to her. “You’ve known me for a long time. What about any of this surprises you?”

She met his gaze evenly. “I’m surprised that an adult male would rather pay seven times the necessary amount for coffee simply to avoid learning how to make a decent cup for himself.”

“You’re awfully judgey for a woman who drank herself to sleep out on that adult male’s balcony last night.”

Shizuku felt her face flush.

Yamaken’s smirk was arrogant, and _oh, do I remember that look._ He had always been so fucking entertained watching people hang themselves with their own words.

“Yamaguchi-saaaaaaaannn!”

Shizuku’s eyes went wide at the petulant call from the front door.

“Ah.” Yamaken shoved himself away from the counter and reached for his wallet on the way to the door. “Hiyori-san, good morning.”

“You’re later than usual, Yamaguchi-san,” a girlish voice teased.

Shizuku shifted casually until she could just see past Yamaken’s shoulder. It was the petite brunette from yesterday. _She must deliver here a lot._

The girl caught her movement, and the flirtatious smile faded. “S-so. Two coffees today then.”

“And the extra omelette, right?” Yamaken asked.

“Sure!” The delivery girl handed over a neatly wrapped package. Shizuku recognized false brightness when she saw it.

“Thanks, Hiyori-san. See you tomorrow.”

As Yamaken laid out breakfast, Shizuku sidled up behind him. “Yamaguchi-san orders from Hiyori-san quite a bit, doesn’t he?”

“The cafe only has two delivery people. I don’t see the guy as much though. He must have really odd hours.”

“Must.” Shizuku nodded. _Bet anything the girl volunteers as she sees the order come in._ “As do you. What are you doing home on a Tuesday at 10:30?”

“Today and tomorrow are my days off,” Yamaken explained around a mouthful of egg. “Hiyori-san was right though. This is a lot later than usual. I shouldn’t be surprised she noticed.”

_For such a smart man, he’s rather impressively dense._

Shizuku took a moment to savor the glorious scent of well-brewed caffeine. “Plans for your two days of luxurious free time?”

“I have some work I’ve got to catch up on, but I want to get that taken care of at some point today.” Yamaken gestured to her cheek.

Shizuku touched her stitches lightly. Her heart picked up a beat or two. _It’s already happening. It’s already turning into something that happened that one time._ If the stitches were no longer in her face… would she start to forget? _Is that… good?_

Yamaken was watching her. “You okay?”

She let her hand fall to the table. “Fine. Yes, we should do that.”

He was quiet for a moment. “We should celebrate.”

Her eyes shot up to his. “Celebrate?” _If he says something like, “Moving on,” I’m going to fucking —_

“Getting your stitches out.” Yamaken crossed his arms on the low table. “Stitches suck. They’re itchy, and you never feel really clean.”

“You’ve had stitches?”

“Mm. Couple times.”

“A _couple_ times? What on earth could Yamaguchi Kenji have gotten into that would leave him in stitches?”

“Well, I always tried to let other people do the fighting in high school, but I did get caught in the crossfire a couple times.”

 _Are you fucking kidding me._ “With anyone I know?”

Yamaken flashed her a grin. “I thought I’d take you to one of my favorite restaurants. It’s nearby, and you can take one of your new outfits from Natsume out for a spin.”

She stood, gathering her trash. “I didn’t get anything fancy. And don’t think I don’t recognize when someone tries to change the subject.”

“So if I make reservations for eight, that’ll work?”

“I have work to do.”  Shizuku drained the last of her coffee, stalling.  “Eight’s fine.”

A soft thud made her look up. Yamaken was flat on his back on the living room floor. “Yamaken?” She didn’t exactly run to stand over him.

“Mizutani Shizuku is finally letting me take her to dinner.” Yamaken’s arm was thrown over his eyes. “It only took a dozen years.”

She straightened and crossed her arms. “This is in no way a date.”

He lifted his arm to glare at her. “Who’s talking about a date? You wouldn’t even let me buy you a fucking coffee when we were in high school. This is a goddamn _victory_.”

“You were cutting in line.”

“And you made me take your money when I tried!”

“Well, if you wouldn’t act like you owned the world because you paid for a snack—!”

“Someone needs to be less prideful and learn how to accept gifts.”

Shizuku eyed him. “So dinner tonight is a gift.”

“It’s a celebration. You know, like a birthday?”

“... Happy You Got Your Stitches Out Day?”

Yamaken sat up with a heavy sigh and got to his feet. “Stay there, will you?” He disappeared into the bathroom. Seconds later, he reappeared with a tiny scissors and some antiseptic wipes.

“So.” He seated himself close to her at the low table, and she fought to keep from leaning away. “You ready to have your face back?”

The phrasing made her blink. _Have my face… back?_ Once again, her fingers traced the stitches in her cheek. In a way, Haru had kind of held her face hostage the last couple days. Her jaw tensed. He had practically signed his name to it.

“Whenever you’re ready. Thank you,” she replied calmly.

Yamaken nodded and began dabbing at her cheek with an antiseptic wipe. His hand smelled of disinfectant. “This won’t hurt,” he promised, “but it will feel weird.”

Shizuku bit her lip, a hint of nerves fluttering in her gut.

He raised the small scissors, and suddenly she wasn’t getting enough oxygen through her nose. Her lips parted as she felt light tugging on her cheek.

 _Snip._ Tug. A weird sensation of something slipping through her skin. _Snip._ Tug. _Snip._

Yamaken was concentrating on his work, and Shizuku focused on his eyes to calm herself. The brown irises were more caramel than chocolate. The lashes were difficult to see from a normal speaking distance, but here she could count every pale blond strand.

“Mm. Healed nicely.” He tilted her chin to examine the closed gash. “You still need to be careful of course. Don’t be too rough when you…” Yamaken glanced up. She could feel his faint breath on her lips.

“You were saying, Doctor?” For some strange reason, she wanted to laugh.

He cleared his throat. “.... when you, ah, when you wash your face. You might. Might open it again.”

Shizuku touched just underneath her scar, casually placing her hand over his. “Can I put makeup on it?”

“Makeup?” he whispered.

“You know. For dinner tonight.”

“What dinner?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Oh! Oh, oh.” Yamaken sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “Aha. Makeup, yes.” He began busily collecting the mess from the table. “Not too much, nothing heavy. But a little that you can wash off easily should, ah, should be just fine.” He practically shot up from the floor.

“You said eight for dinner, right?” she finally said. “I’ll be working out here for awhile then.”

Yamaken paused, his hand on the bathroom’s doorknob. He didn’t turn around. “Mm.” The door clicked shut behind him.

* * *

 

Yamaken didn’t say anything when Shizuku stood up from her work after six hours and announced she was going to take a shower.

He did, however, appear to nearly swallow his tongue when she came out of the bathroom wrapped in one towel with a second one tied up in her hair.

In the guestroom, Shizuku leaned toward the mirror, brushing the scar on her right cheek with light fingers. The lip of the wound was still bright red and slightly raised. Six strange little dots peppered either side of the line.

“Haru put the stitches in,” she muttered. “Yamaken took them out.” If Shizuku were a philosophical woman — _and I’m not_ — she would have admitted that the symbolism there was a bit too on the nose. In school, Yamaken would pull her out of the way of bikes. Haru would throw cans at her head. _Even then, with the fucking cans._

She loaded a brush with foundation and dabbed at the marks. “Hm.” _It’s certainly not going to disappear. Well. Every little bit helps, I suppose._

It had been days since she’d even worn mascara. There hadn’t seemed to be much point. As Shizuku added a bit of blush here and some eyeliner there, she caught herself smiling in the mirror. Just the tiniest uptick of her mouth, but there it was. _I’m finally leaving the house looking like a whole human. Naturally I’m enjoying myself._

Her new blue pencil skirt would work. And the pale yellow cardigan. Natsume had also insisted on some completely impractical kitten heels, but… for a special occasion, they’d surely be all right. Shizuku threw a lipstick in her purse and opened her bedroom door.

Yamaken was seated on the couch, a magazine in one hand, one leg crossed over the other. Gray slacks, a navy blazer, a pink shirt, and — _his hair is blown dry. God damn it._ She hadn’t thought to purchase any hot styling tools yesterday.

He looked up, and Shizuku forgot all about her hair. His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before he resumed that reserved Yamaguchi expression.

“Wow.” Yamaken tossed the magazine next to him and stood. “How much better do you feel?”

Shizuku tried to keep her expression neutral as he approached her, but she felt that tiny smile making itself known again. “Much.” She tugged at her cardigan. “Almost normal.”

“This is only almost normal?” Yamaken stopped in front of her. He combed through the ends of her hair and let the strands fall through his fingers.

 _God, he’s tall._ She swallowed hard. “The… the restaurant. Is it far?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Around the block.” And he held open the door for her. “Remember when we talked about getting drunk together? I thought something close to home would be appropriate.”

Shizuku was grateful he couldn’t see her face. Getting drunk with Yamaken sounded… _like the best worst idea I’ve ever had._

The evening was warm when they stepped out onto the sidewalk. Shizuku relished the feeling of her hair blowing about her face and sliding smoothly over her bare cheek. _Who needs wine?_ The pleasant walk combined with their idle chatter was already smoothing over the harsh edges of her mind.

“The bourride at this place is a religious experience,” Yamaken was saying, “but you really should start out with the boursin tartines. They do a tomato garnish that is just—”

“But are their drinks any good?” Shizuku kept her eyes straight ahead, but she felt Yamaken glance down at her.

“Um? There’s a small cocktail menu, but I… I thought we might share a bottle of wine.”

A hostess all in black held open the restaurant’s front door. With Yamaken’s hand at the small of her back, Shizuku stepped inside. “Something dry and red then,” was all she said.

Their booth was in a dim corner, a single candle already lit on the table. She slid in first, and there was the smallest of awkward moments when Yamaken hesitated as to how close to sit next to her.

Shizuku tried to study the menu. She really did. But the candlelight was doing excellent things to Yamaken’s hair. And… she stared sightlessly at the wine list… he smelled incredible.

A server poured two glasses of the syrah that Shizuku picked out, and Yamaken raised one in a toast. “To having the stitches out of one of my favorite faces. Congratulations, Mizutani Shizuku.”

Shizuku stared at him over the rim of her glass.

He returned the look calmly, but she could see a hint of a blush. “Too corny?” he asked.

“Why did you use Mizutani?”

“Hm.” He took a thoughtful sip. “I… suppose for the same reason I refer to Sasahara Asako as Natsume still. You were Mizutani-san when I knew you.”

“But you’ve called me Shizuku since you saw me at the park,” she pointed out. “Not Mizutani-san.”

“I thought it would take a few more glasses, but I guess I forgot how blunt you are.” Yamaken leaned back against the bench. “There’s a difference between what I called you and how I thought of you.” He looked at her. “I don’t know how to tell you what raced through my mind when I wondered if that could be you on the bench. Shocked, I suppose, is the most succinct way to put it.”

“So you said ‘Shizuku’ because you were surprised.”

“You also didn’t seem to hate it. So I never corrected myself. And I’ve never thought of you as Yoshida-san.” He smiled but there was no humor in it. “You would have to directly tell me to say it.”

“And if I did, would you?”

“It would be one of the least pleasant things to come out of my mouth.” Yamaken grinned. “Right up there with, ‘Congratulations on your marriage.’”

Shizuku clenched her jaw to keep from reacting.

“But to answer your question, yes. Of course. You may recall I said congratulations as well. And if you don’t, then you may take my word for it because I certainly remember.”

“Stop, please.” She had meant to sound stronger, but her words were a whisper. She took a sip of wine so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I never meant to make anything so unpleasant for you.”

“That’s not yours to take responsibility for.” Yamaken laughed shortly. “It’s not your fault I fell in love with Mizutani Shizuku in high school.”

Shizuku looked down at the tartines that a discreet server had placed between them. “You say that so… casually.”

“I don’t mean to sound flippant. It’s simply something that happened that you have no control over.” He picked up a piece of toasted bread. “I almost don’t think I did.”

 _Well, if he can talk about it so easily…_ “That never made sense to me. You even told me how different we are. In cram school, remember?” Shizuku shook her head. “You were always so stylish and confident with people.”

“Yes, let’s talk about how fantastic I was, shall we?” Yamaken gestured with his wine glass. “Suave, intelligent. Charming, I believe you even said once.”

Shizuku was grateful that the server was approaching with their meals. “Yes, well, you were. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“So you still think I am?”

Maybe it was the wine. Or the scent of lightly baked fish in rich butter. Hell, maybe she was just giddy to be acting like a normal person again. Shizuku flashed her best smile. “Yamaken-kun is always charming.”

“...we aren’t so very different then, are we?” he managed.

She helped herself to a second glass. “Of course we’re different. Back then, you went to a private school, had the best education. The pride and joy of the elite Yamaguchi family. While my father lost his grocery store.”

“Your grades were better than mine, if I recall. And your mother was, _is_ , a well-respected attorney.”

“And now, you have an excellent career at one of the best hospitals in the area. Owned by your family.” Shizuku took a bite of fish. _Delicious._

Yamaken gave an exasperated sigh. “And _you’re_ an associate at Nishimura  & Asahi. Your point?”

“My point is that I’m a mess.” She waved her fork. “Even though I try to hold everything together, I’m still the one at this table literally hiding from the man who split her face open.” She laughed humorlessly. “My husband. The one I chose.”

Yamaken clenched his jaw. “And you’re choosing to get away from that. You chose to find help, and… and you chose to stay with me.”

Shizuku lowered her gaze into her wine glass. “Why the hell did you volunteer your place anyway? You never needed to get involved. We hadn’t seen each other in three years. You could have walked on by, and I would have never known.”

“... Because my mind exploded when I saw you sitting there. Because when I saw your… your face, I could have killed him.” His voice was strained. “And it’s selfish and a little crazy, but having you safe in my home is the biggest relief I’ve had in three years. Ten years. A dozen.”

“Ah. Relieved that finally Shizuku is somewhere she can’t get involved with something stupid that’s going to get her killed someday.”

“... I’m relieved that I don’t have to wonder how you are. If you’re having a bad day, I can know it, if it’s a good day, I can know it. If… if you’re crying in your sleep, I can be there.” He filled his glass again, setting the bottle down a little more forcefully than necessary.

Shizuku flushed. “Oh. That. Why on earth did you do that anyway?”

“You were _sobbing_ ,” he emphasized. “We may have drifted apart since high school, but I’m not made of goddamn stone. And I would have left if you’d said anything. You know that, right?”

She drained her wine. “I was dreaming about leaving Tokyo. I like Tokyo. New York is… well, Mom likes it, but I’ve never been.”

“So stay. Why do you think you have to leave?”

Shizuku looked up at the decorative tin ceiling. “Mom’s been pestering me to take part in her firm for a couple years now. It’s doing well.”

“Your firm isn’t going under any time soon.”

“I’ve never lived in another city. It’s an opportunity.”

“So visit. See if you like it first.” He grinned. “I’ll go with you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been to New York?”

“A few times. I like it.”

“It’s a long flight, I understand.”

“Very. But don’t worry, you can sleep on my shoulder.”

Shizuku ignored that. “Moving to New York would mean in no uncertain way that I am moving on with my life. That I’m leaving certain things behind me.”

Yamaken sipped his wine. “Some people manage to do that without moving to the other side of the world. There’s no need for anything dramatic.”

Her temper flared at his casual tone. “I hardly think you’re the best person to lecture me about what it takes to move on, Yamaken.”

“What — what on earth does that mean?”

“You’ve dated just about every bachelorette in your circles. Even an American once.”

Yamaken’s eyes narrowed. “Someone’s been keeping tabs on me. I’m flattered.”

“Oh, wait, the American was your fiancee. Is that why you like New York so much?”

He simply watched her, silent.

“What made you break that off, I wonder? Surely not a silly hangup with a girl in pigtails you knew in high school? Surely that unstylish girl wouldn’t have made you call it quits with an heiress?” _Please stop, stop your mouth, Shizuku._

Yamaken’s face was expressionless. “You haven’t been keeping up with your research. Kelley was the one who broke off our engagement. Not me.”

Shizuku’s mouth dropped open. _Wasn’t… wasn’t expecting that._

“So yes, actually, I’m an expert at moving on from relationships that don’t go the way I’d like them to. What else may I help you with?” He poured them more wine.

Embarrassment flooded her. “Yamaken, I — I’m so sorry.” Shizuku kept her eyes on the tablecloth. “That was… unbelievably —”

“Anyway.” He crossed his arms. “Get a return ticket from New York next week. Don’t make your decision right away.”

Shizuku felt slightly sick. _Who’s the one here who hasn’t grown at all? You’ve always been incapable of letting people too close, and now you’re accusing Yamaken of not being able to stay with women because he can’t move on? You have so. Many. Problems. No wonder the only person you could let yourself be with was —_  “I think… I think I need to go home,” she whispered.

“Shizuku?” Yamaken sat up straight. “Did you have too much to drink?”

She wanted to say yes, blame everything on the wine. Her voice came out as a choke.

“My god, Shizuku.” He closed the distance between them on the bench, put an arm around her. “Come on, tell me you’re okay.”

His arm was long and slender, but she could feel its strength. _You one hundred percent do not deserve to be comforted right now._ “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice low. “Are you seriously not drunk at all?”

Yamaken leaned his head onto hers with a relieved laugh. “I’m definitely not in a position to operate heavy machinery. But I think I can walk us to the right apartment.”

He kept his arm around her the entire walk home. Shizuku wasn’t about to tell him to move. Just let me make this mistake, she begged herself. Her hands clutched her purse strap. His hand on her shoulder was warm. _He probably walked Kelley home like this._

_Well of course he did. She was engaged. To him. Not married to someone else._

She put a hand to her forehead. The warmth of the wine was dulling every corner of her mind, particularly the voice that was shrieking _No_. Not that it was shrieking that loudly to begin with.

 _You could just go to your room. Close the door. Nothing would happen._ She glanced up at Yamaken. He caught her look, gave her a questioning smile. His blond hair stirred in the breezy night.

_But you don’t want that. Do you._

He rubbed the sleeve of her cardigan. “Still mad at me?”

Shizuku laughed. “Is it possible for women to stay mad at you?”

She felt him chuckle. “You apparently know all about my dating history. So the correct answer to that question shouldn’t surprise you.” He opened the complex’s gate. The delicate sounds of fountains filled the air, and blue hydrangeas seemed to glow in the dim light.

_Well. Fuck._

The cafe was closed. Only a few apartment windows in the complex flickered with light. Yamaken tapped his wallet against his lobby’s security pad. He placed a hand between her shoulder blades to let her enter first, and Shizuku felt her heart speed up. His fingers slid up to her neck, rested there under her hair as they waited for the elevator.

_You could stop this. You could make the smallest move, and he wouldn’t press._

Shizuku stepped forward to press the floor’s button. Yamaken’s hand fell easily from her. When she stepped back to his side, his hands were casually in his pockets.

She felt the elevator rise and took a deep breath. Tightened her grip on her purse strap. And stepped in front of him. “You give up so easily,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

Yamaken looked down at her, his eyes wide, his face flushed. “Damn. How do I forget how straight-forward you are. Every time.” He straightened. “Yes. I give up because I know when it’s time. Though I do seem to have more difficulty with you than with most.”

Shizuku cocked her head. “How do you mean?”

He grinned, and Shizuku’s heart leaped for it. “This would be, what, the third time you’ve rejected me? Some people would say I don’t learn.”

“W-well.” She stepped forward. “Who said this was a rejection?” _I have zero game. None. How do people normally get each other into bed?_

Yamaken stared at her. He opened his mouth, and —

_Ding!_

The elevator doors parted smoothly just across from his apartment door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tsk.” She clicked her tongue, examining the makeup on the jacket’s lapel. “That’s why I wanted to wash my face off. I guess I didn’t think of it fast enough. I can probably get it out tomorrow though.”
> 
> Yamaken blinked. “You… were thinking about that?” He had absolutely not been thinking about makeup stains when Shizuku was flattening her curves against his body on the balcony.
> 
> “Mm. And the more I thought about it, the more I figured we should probably be more comfortable anyway.” She tugged at her pajama top. “You said you wanted to take my skirt off, didn’t you?”
> 
> Yamaken closed his eyes. “I think… we have very different approaches to sex, Shizuku.”
> 
> Her face went scarlet. “How — how do you mean?”

“Who said this was a rejection?”

As the elevator doors opened, Yamaken stared at the petite woman in front of him.

_Whu — what. WHAT?_

Shizuku lifted her chin, and he noticed in a daze that her face was red. She turned on her heel and was waiting patiently at the door to his apartment before he shook himself into action.

 _Be suave. Be cool. Don’t scare her._ But she offered another of those tiny smiles — that fleeting twitch of the lips that first stopped his heart in a public library a dozen years ago — and Yamaken grabbed her arm.

“What… what are you doing?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

He didn’t think his eyes could open any wider, but then she leaned against the apartment door. Did she… arch her back just a little? _Don’t look down, don’t, you keep your eyes on hers, Yamaguchi Kenji._

Why was he acting like a teenager? His heart was loud in his ears. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was happening. He’d been in this situation before. He studied her welcoming smile, the tilt of her head, the sweep of her lashes. So why was he asking her what she was doing? When he damn well knew?

 _Because… it’s Shizuku._ And if there were a way to not fuck this up, he was going to find it very, very carefully.

“It’s sweet that you’re asking,” she said. Her voice was low, and it sent shivers down his spine. Shizuku reached her hands to his neck and tugged him forward. “But I should think it’s obvious.”

Yamaken braced his hands on the door on either side of her head. This was just about every day dream he’d had for three years straight of high school, and he was very nearly done with trying to sort out what was going on. She had seemed challenging at dinner, a little cold in the elevator, and now… his gaze dropped to her lips. Now she was pulling him against her on his apartment door.

Shizuku stood on tiptoe and, reaching as high as she could, placed a light kiss on his neck.

Yamaken heard himself sigh, and he leaned his forehead against the door just above her shoulder. _I am absolutely going to hell. And I think I’m okay with that._

Shizuku swept her hands into his jacket, and he felt heat spread over his chest and shoulders wherever her fingers passed. She had turned aside his shirt collar, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of her lips, her tongue on his neck, just above his collarbone.

Yamaken’s hands were splayed on the door to keep from simply crushing her to him. _Mizutani Shizuku is of her own free will seducing me in my apartment hallway._ He inhaled sharply as he felt her nails in his hair. God, do not fuck this up.

“Yamaken?” Her whisper was breathy against his neck, and Yamaken’s pulse sped up.

“Mm?” He nuzzled her hair. Her shampoo smelled of lavender.

“Do you think we might continue this inside?” She laughed, and it sounded a bit nervous. “Not that I’m self-conscious, but…”

“Ah!” Yamaken pushed himself off the door hurriedly. “Of — of course!” He fumbled for his wallet.

The apartment was dark, and for the first time ever, Yamaken cursed himself for not investing in at least a couple lamps. The living room was either pitch black or brilliant with overhead lights — not exactly what one would call mood lighting.

Shizuku stood in the center of the room, her back to him. She let her bag drop gently to the floor, and Yamaken’s breath caught as she slipped out of her heels.

“Would… would you like a beer?” he asked. He cleared his throat and tried for a less adolescent pitch to his voice. “I think it goes even better with the balcony than sake does.”

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the jolt that smile sent through him. Shizuku slid the balcony doors open.

Yamaken took advantage of the open refrigerator door to crouch into a ball. _Oi, oi, oi. Is this really what you should be doing right now? She’s the one who started this, what are you talking about? I completely backed off! You have been sending out all sorts of crappy mixed signals, Yamaguchi. She’s probably lonely and… maybe trying to avoid thinking. Do you really want to be an escape for her?_

He straightened, two beers in hand. He could just see her through the sliding glass doors. Shizuku had stretched out on a lounge, arms overhead, bare feet curled up on the chair.

_Yes. Yes, I do._

“Oi.” Yamaken nudged her foot with his before presenting her with a beer. “That’s my chair.”

She furrowed her brow — _damn, so cute_ — but stood as she took the can.

Yamaken seated himself and tugged her onto his lap before she could move to the other lounge. She gave a startled gasp at first, then laughed. “Smooth, Yamaguchi-san.”

“Oh, if we’re talking about smooth —” He swept her hair to one side and nibbled at her neck. “Your little display outside my apartment was exemplary.”

Shizuku made a small squealing sound, bringing her shoulder up to her ear, and Yamaken nearly died. “I was… I wasn’t sure how you’d react at all,” she finally said a bit breathlessly.

Yamaken paused before taking a sip of beer. “Let me get this straight. You were worried that I would respond badly to you kissing my neck?”

She shifted, embarrassed, and Yamaken gripped his beer tightly as her ass brushed against his crotch. “Well, I didn’t know! You could have been completely disgusted for all I —”

“My god, Shizuku.” He reached back and lowered the lounge to nearly horizontal, tugging her onto his chest. “When in our entire history have I ever been disgusted by anything you did? It’s been all I could do to resist you sometimes.”

Her brown eyes were huge as she curled in his arms.

Yamaken ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feeling of her against him. In all the times he’d hugged her, it had been such a fleeting, stolen moment. He set his beer down on the table next to them. “You done with that?” he whispered, pointing to the beer she’d barely touched.

Wordlessly, she let him place it next to his.

He cupped her face in his hands, letting his eyes wander over her beautiful skin, her serious brows, and that small, delicate mouth. He saw her eyelids lower, and he raised his chin to meet her.

As her lips touched his, he tried to keep his breathing even. He wanted to inhale deeply and breathe out his relief. Her mouth was perfect. Firm lips, but more willing than even his most realistic daydreams.

Shizuku licked the corner of his mouth, and he parted his lips for her instantly. He spread his hands over her back, one sliding up to her neck, the other wrapping tightly around her waist. Yamaken kneaded her neck gently, and her sighs into his mouth unspun his mind more effectively than all the evening’s alcohol.

Her hands had been clutching his shirt collar, a move Yamaken found sexily possessive. Now one of them trailed down his shirt front, exploring his chest, his abs. When she found his hip just above his belt, Yamaken bit her lip softly.

“Ouch,” Shizuku protested quietly. “Why?”

“Mm, just kind of a Proceed with Caution sign.” His hand at her waist trailed up her ribs and rested tellingly just underneath her breast. “You get to say how far and how fast, but I’m letting you know what the road looks like.”

“What a stupid. Fucking.” She peppered kisses on his forehead, his face, his nose with each word. “Analogy.” But he smiled when she arched her back, letting his hand slide up further.

Her breasts were small and sensitive. Yamaken had generally tried not to wonder how Shizuku would prefer a man to touch them, but her little cries into his ear had his eyes closed and his mouth gasping. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, and he shivered at how she’d opened the full length of herself to his hands.

He left her breasts — wondering what color her bra was and if it had lace — and swept his fingers slowly down her side, over her ass, and behind her thighs.

“Mmm,” she murmured and pulled him tighter.

Oh? Yamaken bit back a grin. Her pencil skirt was tight, but he found the space between her thighs, just under her ass. Shizuku gave a soft groan, and he buried his face in her hair to stop from laughing. Learning the most intimate parts of Shizuku — he’d imagined he would say stupid things, cry, perhaps even come far too early, but never — he’d never imagined how it would fill every corner of him with happiness.

“I’d love to take your skirt off,” Yamaken whispered. “Or maybe you’d rather I just push it up to your waist?” He relished the fullness of her ass under the taut fabric. “Because I have this odd feeling you’d really like my hand to be somewhere else.”

“Ahhh, fuck you, Kenji,” Shizuku breathed. “You think I haven’t been feeling your dick pressed up against my hip for the past twenty minutes?”

He flushed, even though of course he’d known it himself. “You — never said anything! If it made you uncomfortable —!”

“Yamaken.” Shizuku slid off the lounge, stood, and looked pointedly at his hard crotch. “I’ve been aware for quite some time that you have a dick.” She smirked, and _damn_ , if it wasn’t… the hottest… _wait. Do I have some kind of… of… masochist fetish?!_

Shizuku leaned over him to retrieve her beer — it couldn’t have been a coincidence that her breasts were practically in his face — and walked through the sliding glass doors without a backward glance.

Yamaken stayed rooted to the lounge, a bit breathless. She hadn’t said she wanted to stop, did she? He glanced down at his slacks.

He grabbed his beer and followed, shutting the glass doors behind him. The bathroom door was shut, and a light shone underneath.

Yamaken groaned and poured his beer down the kitchen sink. Trying not to grumble too loudly, he went into his room and shrugged out of his jacket. _We are so going to establish some ground rules tomorrow._ He hung the suit coat in the closet. It was a bit wrinkled, and — yes, there was makeup on the lapel. He blushed. Mizutani Shizuku’s makeup was on his jacket.

 _This is absolutely not good. She’s going to regret this, and I can’t be getting a useless hard-on every night._ He glared at his jacket. _And all my clothes are going to get ruined._

“Yamaken?”

He turned his head slowly.

Shizuku was in the doorway. Her hair was down, her makeup was scrubbed off, and she was wearing last night’s pajama set. _I will. never. understand this woman._

Yamaken turned to face her, crossing his arms.

She scanned him from head to toe. “Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?”

Casually. Like they were right back to being roommates. “Oh, I was just taking stock of my clothes first. I like to get a damage report every night.”

Shizuku cocked her head and stepped over to the closet. She smelled of toothpaste and coconut oil, and fuck if it didn’t make his traitorous dick sit up and take notice again.

“ _Tsk_.” She clicked her tongue, examining the jacket’s lapel. “That’s why I wanted to wash my face off. I guess I didn’t think of it fast enough. I can probably get it out tomorrow though.”

Yamaken blinked. “You… were thinking about that?” He had absolutely not been thinking about makeup stains when Shizuku was flattening her curves against his body on the balcony.

“Mm. And the more I thought about it, the more I figured we should probably be more comfortable anyway.” She tugged at her pajama top. “You said you wanted to take my skirt off, didn’t you?”

Yamaken closed his eyes. “I think… we have very different approaches to sex, Shizuku.”

Her face went scarlet. “How — how do you mean? How many different approaches can there be?"

He stared at her. _Oh god._ “Shizuku,” he began delicately. “Forgive me for asking this, but — on the outside chance that this is a possibility, I really think I should know — are you a virgin?”

Shizuku’s eyes went wide. “N-NO! Of course not!”

Yamaken blew out a breath. “Of course. Sorry.”

“I… I _have_ only been with… so, I mean, there’s probably a lot that I don’t…”

Yamaken watched her. Shizuku was staring at the floor, completely red-faced, looking impossibly unsure of herself.

Fuck it. Fuck moving on from his high-school crush. Fuck it if she moved away. Fuck it even if she wanted to be with Haru again in the end. Fuck all of that. Yamaken wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. He was not going to let this… completely singular woman doubt herself or his feelings for her ever _ever_ again.

He felt her hands hesitantly rest on his chest. “I didn’t mean to say you did something wrong,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just that I would have really liked to take your skirt off myself.” Yamaken swept his hand up her back. “And your bra —” he broke off as his hand rested on the clasp under her shirt.

“Umm, I kept that on.” Shizuku shifted from one foot to the other in his arms. “You, ah, you can see everything in these pajamas if I don’t have one on, I found out.”

Yamaken pressed her head to his chest so she wouldn’t see him fight back a laugh. “Well, I’m going to go brush my teeth too then. And when I come back…” He cupped her face in his hands, and how could he not smile at that blush? “When I come back, would you help me take my clothes off please?”

“... Hurry?”

“... Fuck.” Yamaken kissed her then, hard and possessive.

When he entered his room again, the bedside lamp was the only light on. Shizuku met him at the door.

“Shizuku?” She had an oddly determined look on her face.

She pulled his head down by his shirt collar — _she really has a thing for that_ — and he lost himself again in the perfect fit of her mouth. Yamaken hardly noticed when her fingers slipped from his throat to unbutton his shirt.

In a few seconds, Shizuku had his shirt swept off his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down over his arms. “Shizuku,” he murmured into her mouth. “You forgot the wrists.”

She tugged at his shirt, tightening the fabric that kept his hands behind his back. “Who forgot what?” she asked, looking at him from under her lashes. Yamaken’s mouth went dry.

She pushed him gently back against the wall. He watched her, color high, mouth slightly open. Protests vanished, just quick breathing.

She stood on her toes and licked his collar bone. Kissed it. Bit it. Yamaken made a small noise he was pretty sure he’d never heard from himself before.

He was wearing a thin tank, and she untucked it from his slacks. He watched as she raised the undershirt, studying his abs, his hips. He swallowed but stayed quiet.

“You,” she purred, “have a rather incredible body.” She ran her nails up his stomach under the shirt, and he let his head fall back against the wall.

“Want — want to see the rest of it?”

She looked up at him, startled. Her laugh was surprised, and Yamaken couldn’t stop a cocky grin.

“So confident, Yamaguchi.” Shizuku let his tank fall back into place and leaned the full length of her body against him. There was no way she couldn’t have felt him throbbing. “So quick to show off? What about me?”

He narrowed an eye. “What about you? No, Shizuku, no —”

But she was slipping out of her pajama pants, ignoring him.

“Dammit, Shizuku.” He fidgeted with his wrist buttons, but they were well and truly tight.

She paused in the midst of unbuttoning her top. “Oh, did you want to take my pants off?” Her voice was innocent.

Yamaken rolled his eyes. “We talked about this.”

“Hm.” She reached for his belt and began feeding it through the loops of his slacks. “Well, I suppose I can leave the top for you. My word.” Shizuku ran her thumbs just above his waistband, and he tried not to gasp. “I just love your hip bones. This right here.” She dragged a nail on the inside of the bone’s relief, and Yamaken groaned. “That’s really quite beautiful.”

“Sh-Shizuku. I appreciate that you’re taking your time, really, I do, but —” He stood away from the wall. “Can you do something about this goddamn shirt?”

“Well, if you’re in such a hurry.” And she nudged a shoulder to get him to turn around.

His back to her, he heard her take in a sharp breath. “Oh, sorry, but I think I need a moment here too.”

“Shizuku.”

“Yes, yes.” He felt a few tugs at his wrists, and then the material slipped off his arms.

“Right.” Yamaken turned to face her, pulling his undershirt over his head. He watched the heat climb to her face.  “My turn.”

He lifted her easily into his arms. She’d stayed the same size as she’d been their third year of high-school, while he’d grown a bit more and kept a pretty active lifestyle. Yamaken set her easily on her knees on the bed, climbing up behind her.

He held her for a moment to his chest, savoring her scent in his mind, her body in his arms.

Shizuku reached back, stroking his neck with her hands, and his own swept over her torso, testing the smoothness of the silk. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, and he followed the graceful arch of her ribs with his fingertips.

The buttons of her pajama top fell away easily, and a bit of pale yellow lace showed at her chest. “Nice color,” he whispered in her ear.

“Is it?” Shizuku’s voice was faint. “It… it just doesn’t show through clothes easily, I know that.”

Yamaken laughed, feeling the lace edge with a finger. “Always so practical.” And though he was joking, though he was laughing with her… there was a part of Yamaguchi Kenji that still reeled in disbelief.

The girl of his day dreams, the girl from his first confession, the woman who’d walked away from him toward a man he’d only grown to tolerate for her sake — her head was on his shoulder. She was letting him slip a silk pajama top off her shoulders as she knelt in his bed. She was arching her back into his touch as he felt her lace bra with shaking hands.

 _What the hell?_ Yamaken’s vision blurred around the edges. He clutched her bare shoulders and buried his face in the back of her neck.

“Kenji?” He felt her turn, and he tried to wipe his tears quickly. “Oh. Oh, what’s this?” she whispered.

Yamaken froze in the midst of wiping an eye. Shizuku was on her hands and knees in front of him, hair spilling over her shoulders but doing nothing to hide an absolutely stunning pair of breasts in a neat little bra.

“I think…” and she pushed lightly against his shoulders, urging him to his back. “I think it’s time to get your pants off, don’t you?”

Yamaken was helpless to do anything but stare from his pillow as Shizuku tugged his gray slacks over his hips and past his knees. _If she goes straight for the boxers, I don’t know…_

But she laid herself on top of him and stretched to reach the bedside lamp. Yamaken regretted the darkness but made up for it by sliding his hand the length of her spine, from her neck to her ass. After catching her clasp a couple times, he wordlessly undid her bra, and she let it fall to the floor.

Shizuku’s bare breasts on his skin had him closing his eyes, letting his fingers marvel in the smoothness of her back, her shoulders, her arms.

There was a part of him that could have stayed like that for hours. This woman resting on top of him, as they explored each other’s skin with lazy touches.

But her feather-light caresses were leaving hot trails on his arms, his chest, his neck. He took her gently by the wrist and lowered her hand to his boxers. Yamaken heard her breathing pick up, but then her palm was cupping his balls, and he sighed into her ear. “More, please.”

Her fingers were delicate as they moved up his shaft through his boxers. She tugged the waist band down, and Yamaken gasped as the elastic brushed his sensitive head.

“Oh,” she whispered, “did I hurt you?”

“No. No, but…” He guided her hand to his tip. “Just there. That’s… “ His hips gave an involuntary jolt.

Shizuku laughed, and Yamaken groaned. “God, you are here, laughing in the dark, in my bed, as I contemplate completely ruining your panties. That has to be the sexiest goddamn sound in my universe.”

“Oh well, feel free to ruin the panties,” Shizuku said casually.

Yamaken stared at her wide-eyed.

“They came with the bra. I never wear them — damn lacey things are really uncomfortable.”

 _I am… never going to be told that again._ And Yamaken took the thin waist of the lace bikini in both hands and snapped.

Shizuku stilled on his chest. “You… you actually did that?”

Yamaken paused in the midst of sliding the panties down her other leg. “Didn’t — didn’t you tell me to?”

“You _ripped_ my panties in half.”

“... I repeat, didn’t you _tell_ me to?”

“I didn’t actually think it was _possible_!”

“They’re made of… of… fairy dust and wet dreams!” Yamaken protested. “If you flexed your thighs, you’d rip them apart!”

“Oi! Needless commentary on my thighs, boy!”

Yamaken bit his lip. _I’m actually pretty impressed I did that in one go._ He grinned into the darkness. _How many people can say that?_ “I will happily buy you a replacement pair.” His hands followed the curve of her waist down to her bare ass.

The tiniest sigh escaped her, and _ohhhh right. Didn’t she like that…?_

Yamaken ran a finger under the curve of her ass. His mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp when she lifted a leg up to his waist, hugging him tightly.

He could feel himself getting harder. He bit his lip and, reaching behind that ass, between those marvelously spread legs, stroked her with two fingers. _Oh god._ Yamaken found her open mouth with his, and she rolled his tongue with hers. _God, she’s wet. I could go in right now and…_

But he must have moved just right — Shizuku moaned deeply. Her breasts were in his face, and Yamaken took one in his mouth. “ _Aahhh_ ,” and she collapsed onto him. He took her by the hips, and she made a sound of protest as his hand left her clitoris. But she settled herself over his penis and took him with one long roll of her hips.

Yamaken’s entire body jerked once, hard. It was so tight, so hot, so overwhelming. Shizuku lowered herself to his chest, and he grabbed her hand as it stroked his face. Words were gone, and all that was in his mind was her name as he rolled his hips into hers. He kissed her palm, hoping his eyes somehow were telling her… what he had no place to say.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Touch me. Please.”

He put his hand between them, felt with long fingers, and Shizuku gave a cry. He felt her wet around him, felt her open to more of him, and he stroked hard with his finger. “Ah, Yamak — Kenji.” Her hair was in his face, her breast in his mouth. “God, pl-please…!”

He was losing control, and as he felt his body shudder hard once, twice, he groaned loudly between her breasts, pressing her clit with two hard fingers. His pulse was just slowing as she screamed, contracting around him. It was a delicious pressure that made him convulse with her.

Their breaths slowed together, and he loved feeling her slow recovery with him inside her. Yamaken wondered what needed to be said right now. _I’ve wanted you forever? Thank you? I love you? Marry me? Stay?_

He slid them both, not without some struggle, under the covers. Brushed her sweaty bangs from her forehead. “Sleep well,” he whispered and kissed her nose.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaken grinned, and damn if he didn’t look… well, he didn’t, and Shizuku wasn’t looking any way. “I assume you want to speak about last night. This just seems a bit public. Not that I mind.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m certainly not embarrassed about any of it.”
> 
> No wonder Hiyori had delivered his breakfast for a year. That smile should be illegal. “There's hardly anyone around, and I wasn’t going to go into detail,” Shizuku said crisply. “But we need to get some things clear. I am not living with you. We are not dating. We’re old friends, and I’m a guest.”
> 
> “Mm.” Yamaken held her gaze. “Of course I have awkward, drunken sex with all my house guests.”

The first time Shizuku woke up that night, she came awake with a start.

The room was dark, and she focused on the ceiling, heart pounding, sweat freezing her skin. There was no moment of confusion as to where she was. She didn’t have to recall the hours before — each minute was right there in the front of her mind.

She swallowed hard and glanced at her side. Tried to slow her panting.

Yamaken was lying on his stomach, his head turned away, his breathing slow and even. She tried to match his breaths to calm her heart. His shoulders, lean and powerful, were bare above the covers.

_Have to think. Must think. Have to get everything straight._

Shizuku swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Found his dress shirt on the floor, slipped it on, and crept silently out of the room. No coffee in the kitchen, she knew, and no tea that she’d noticed. She hopped up on the kitchen countertop with a mug of hot water and stared into it.

_Start with what you know. Work on feelings later._

Fact. _The sex was good._

Fact. _You are still married. To someone else. In case you forgot._

Fact. _I do not feel guilty about that._

_Wait. Scratch that. That was emotion, not fact._

Fact. _You have not attempted to get in touch with your husband. Ex-husband. Soon-to-be-ex._

Fact. _He has also not contacted you, so let’s get that straight._

Fact. _You told him_ you’d _call. That first night, you promised you’d call._

Fact. _He used underhanded means to find me against my will. That makes my promise null and void._

Emotion? _I’m… angry he still follows me._

Emotion. _I —_  this was always the hard part _— am tired of his anger. Not his anger. His volatility._

Fact. _It’s probably that focused passion that lets him excel in scientific research. So focused, no matter the outcome._

Emotion. _I’m attracted to that passion._

Fact. _But I’m tired of it. It hurts. It expends me._

Fact. _I am… not. Going to be with him. Again._

Pain, dull and aching, swelled in Shizuku’s chest. A building wave of sadness. She clutched her cooled mug of water tightly.

Fact. _This is mourning an end. This is natural to feel sad._

Definitely emotion. _That’s right. I feel sad. To be leaving my first friend. My husband. My first love._

Fact. _But not enough to stay._

Shizuku glanced at Yamaken’s closed bedroom door.

Fact. _I do not know if I am in love with Yamaken._

Fact. _He takes up most of the bed when he sleeps._

_But he’s gentle. And he made sure we were both comfortable._

_Ahem. That was a_

Fact.

_Don’t lose track of the structure now. That’s the only way this works. Also a_

Fact. _He was very attentive. Albeit a little awkward. But in a very good way, not like in an I’m-completely-unaware-of-how-you’re-reacting-and-just-plowing-on-ahead kind of way._

Emotion. _I liked the way he blushed._

_And do you remember how he teared up that one moment? Held me so close. Shizuku felt a blush crawl up her neck. His chest was hard. I want to…_

Emotion. _… fall asleep on his chest._

_And be there when he wakes up. And make him buy a goddamn coffee maker. And watch him watch me waking up._

Fact. _I want to be back in that room._

Shizuku hopped off the countertop and placed her mug in the sink. The process perhaps indicated a soul that was more disconnected than it should be. Maybe the average woman wouldn’t need to cram thoughts into categories to know her own mind. But…

She crawled under the covers, and Yamaken shivered. “Cold,” he mumbled. She doubted he was any kind of lucid, but she felt herself smile when he curled into her side. Shizuku let him nestle his head under her chin.

And felt her own eyes close.

* * *

 

The second time Shizuku woke up, it was gently.

Gray light filled the room. She looked, and a steady rain was coating the bedroom window. She swept her feet under the covers, luxuriating in the smooth warmth. And brushed against warm skin.

“Mmf.”

Yamaken lay on his stomach, long arms hugging a pillow to his face. One brown eye regarded her sleepily. “You’re wearing my shirt.” His voice was rough and quiet.

“I was thirsty. Had to get up and go to the kitchen.” _Is this… normal? To just chat the morning after?_ She could only see the corner of his mouth twitch against the pillow.

“Looks good. Do I ever get it back?”

Shizuku turned on her side to face him. Tucked the covers under her chin. “You have to buy a coffeemaker first.”

Yamaken shifted to see her better. “I’d rather lose a custom-tailored shirt than drink shit coffee.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It is possible to learn how _not_ to make shit coffee.”

“Mm.” Yamaken reached out and ran a hand down the arm of her — his — pink dress shirt. “You sure you don’t want it?”

She was blushing, she knew it. “I’ll buy the goddamn coffeemaker. And you can have your shirt back,” she added quickly.

He leaned over, cupped her jaw, and his kiss was soft. So unlike the driving passion of last night. This was sweet and undemanding and welcoming.

“If I wanted to buy a coffee maker,” Yamaken mumbled against her lips, “who would have the best deal?”

* * *

 

“For heaven’s sake, will you stop acting like this is another planet?” Shizuku chided. “And put that away.”

Yamaken sniffed and set a coffee grinder back on a shelf. “It might as well be. Do you see what this thing’s made of? It’ll fall apart in a month.”

“Why are you such a snob? And I told you, we don’t need it anyway.”

“Appreciating quality materials does not make anyone a snob. And why don’t we need it? The best coffee…”

“I always buy instant.” Shizuku folded her arms. “It’s faster and cheaper, and I don’t have to buy another gadget.”

Yamaken raised an eyebrow ever so briefly. “And you expect to make not-shit coffee with instant?”

Shizuku inhaled deeply. “Well, _I_ manage to. I’m beginning to have my doubts about you.”

“Yamaguchi-san?”

As one, Shizuku and Yamaken whirled at the voice behind them. The pretty brunette from the cafe stared back with equally wide eyes.

“Ah, Hiyori.” Yamaken was the first to recover. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the cafe uniform! You work here too?”

Shizuku watched the girl deflate. _Really, Yamaken. Don’t be so cruelly oblivious._

“W-well,” Hiyori stammered, smoothing out her apron. “Can I help you… two… find anything?” She glanced at the boxed coffeemaker in Shizuku’s arms.

Yamaken smiled. A flush came to Hiyori’s cheeks. “I think we’re all set,” he said, tapping the box with a knuckle. “Apparently she has to have coffee first thing in the mornings.”

Shizuku’s blush matched Hiyori’s. “W-what—?!”

“Oh.” Hiyori twisted a finger in the hem of her apron. “You’re living together then?”

Shizuku stared at her. A quiet desperation radiated from the girl, as though she knew the question was too personal but couldn’t help herself.

“Oh, have you not met Mizutani-san yet?” Yamaken draped an arm around Shizuku’s shoulders.

It was a brilliant nonanswer, but Shizuku wasn’t ready to indulge this conversation in any way. “Thank you for breakfast yesterday, Hiyori… san.” She bowed slightly before taking a tiny step toward the register. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“You’re always so abrupt,” Yamaken said finally, watching the clerk give Shizuku her change.

“There’s no point in entertaining awkward conversations.” She let him take the umbrella, holding it up for both of them against the lessening rain.

“I wasn’t awkward. I was absolutely charming. And Hiyori was just being polite.”

“Asking if two strangers are living together does not come under the heading of ‘being polite.’”

“I’m not a stranger,” Yamaken pointed out. “She’s been delivering meals to me for about a year now, and I’ve never had anyone stay over for breakfast before.”

Shizuku stopped for the light at a crosswalk. “Is that right? You don’t make a habit of bringing women home for a couple days?”

Yamaken had the grace to blush. “I… actually prefer not to bring them back to my apartment.”

Shizuku’s eyes widened, but she breathed a sigh of relief when the light changed suddenly. She started walking quickly.

“Besides, aren’t we?” Yamaken lengthened his stride to keep her under the umbrella. “Living together?”

She flushed but didn’t look at him. “One night of… of… one night does not translate into living together!”

“Okay, I know what you’re doing there, but technically it’s been three nights.”

Shizuku halted. She glared up at the tall man at her side, then grabbed his hand.

“Shizuku?” Yamaken let himself be dragged into the poor shelter of a covered vending machine.

“We,” she said with finality, “are going to have a talk. Like adults.”

Yamaken raised his eyebrows but leaned against the vending machine calmly. “And you want to do that right here?”

She blushed, her hands on hips. “I did say _talk_.”

He grinned, and damn if he didn’t look… well, he _didn’t_ , and she wasn’t looking any way. “I assume you want to speak about last night. This just seems a bit public. Not that I mind.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m certainly not embarrassed about any of it.”

No wonder Hiyori had delivered his breakfast for a year. That smile should be illegal. “There's hardly anyone around, and I wasn’t going to go into detail,” she said crisply. “But we need to get some things clear. I am not living with you. We are not dating. We’re old friends, and I’m a guest.”

“Mm.” Yamaken held her gaze. “Of course I have awkward, drunken sex with all my house guests.”

Shizuku felt her ears heating up. “You don’t have to make it sound ridiculous. And what do you mean, ‘awkward?’ I thought you weren’t embarrassed by any of it!”

“Does it make you feel better to shout? Or are we not trying for that adult conversation you mentioned?”

She dug deep for her signature look of self-assured confidence. “I simply meant we shouldn’t fool ourselves into thinking we’re in a relationship. It’s been three days since we met for the first time in three years.”

Yamaken nodded. “Not forgetting of course, that a byproduct of those three years is you being married. Still, in fact.”

Shizuku clenched her jaw but said nothing.

“Which leads me to my next question. Or rather the question you’ve ignored since I ran into you three days ago.” Yamaken’s voice was low. Serious. “Why now?”

She focused on the rain falling in thin lines from the roof of the vending machine.

“I can’t imagine Haru has changed at all since the day you married him,” Yamaken went on. “I mean, he was throwing misdirected punches at you in high school. So what happened, last weekend?”

“I told you.” It wasn’t even a whisper.

Yamaken leaned toward her. “You told me he threw a can at your face, and for the first time, you had to go get stitches. ‘First time’ tells me he’s been throwing things at you as a matter of course.”

“It’s not like it was an everyday thing.” _Why are you bothering to be defensive?_

“But not unusual. So why now? Why are you leaving now?” His tone was kind but…

She was silent for a bit. “I’m tired. It’s exhausting, you know, walking on eggshells. I mean, it’s been how many years, and I still can’t get it right?” Shizuku blew out a breath. “It might have been the blood that did it. From the cut that night. I wasn’t angry. Well, maybe a little. I just… going to the hospital once was enough. Lying to the nurses.” She laughed humorlessly. “I will not make that a regular part of my existence.”

Yamaken’s hand twitched in the pocket of his jacket, but she was grateful he didn’t reach out to touch her. “Are you… even going to contact him again?”

She stepped out into the rain. Emotional exploration had never been her forte. “There’s no reason not to. He isn’t a monster.”

Yamaken fell into step next to her, and the sound of rain against the umbrella seemed too loud. “Are you going to try to meet with him?”

“I haven’t decided. Maybe I’ll call first. Or… well, I’ll get to it. There’s a lot I have to take care of in a short amount of time.”

“Like moving to New York, you mean.”

Shizuku glanced up at him. Yamaken returned her look, his expression serious.

She sighed heavily. “Like moving to New York. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” They were at the gate of the complex, and Yamaken held his wallet to the pad. “You’ve been saying nothing else since I met you.”

“Well. Well, Natsume was upset about it.”

“I can see that.”

“So I lied to her.”

“Less understandable, but go on.”

“And then you said I could just visit the first time.”

“I volunteered to come with you, as I recall.”

“And then, practically, there’s the matter of our belongings and other things that we need to settle. Really, it would just be easier to come back after a short visit. I mean, there’s no guarantee I’ll fit in at the New York office anyway...”

Yamaken released a slow breath. “Ever considered opening a Tokyo branch? The New York trip could be research for something like that maybe.”

Shizuku stopped at the door to his lobby. _I am not curious what’s behind that remark, my heart did not just jump, that is completely unexplored territory —_

“Not that I’m a selfish bastard or anything.”

They waited at the elevator, and his smile as he looked down at her was calm. Undemanding. And confident. It hadn’t changed a bit from so many years ago. When he lightly challenged her rejection of him for the first time.

She only kind of wished she didn’t remember that smile so well.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Confusing?!” Yamaken pushed himself away from the counter and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “You’ve got me turning in circles. Look.” He backed away several feet and put his hands on his hips. “I have tried very hard not to put you on the spot, not make any demands, but a little clarity would be helpful right now.” He clenched his jaw, looked at her from underneath his hair. “Do you want me or not?”
> 
> Shizuku’s mouth went dry. His long-sleeved T-shirt was askew, showing off his collarbone. A belt wrapped around slim hips, and long legs filled out a trim pair of jeans just right. Brown eyes watched her with that old mix of bravery and fear and hope.
> 
> What kind of fucking obvious question is that?
> 
> And what would happen if you said yes?
> 
> You cannot fuck with his heart. Not again.
> 
> But you’ve always been honest with him. And given him his answers whenever he’s asked.
> 
> Be honest. About everything.

“Mm. Want to show me how to make coffee?” Yamaken mumbled against her lips.

Shizuku raised an eyebrow but didn’t open her eyes. “Now?” she whispered.

She’d gently shoved him against a wall as soon they were inside the apartment. That goddamn smile. You couldn’t even call it a real smile. It was a smirk, and paired with a side glance from those beautiful brown eyes, well. He was lucky Shizuku hadn’t marched him straight to his bedroom.

“You still haven’t had any this morning.” Yamaken pulled back from the sloppy kiss. “Coffee, I mean.”

 _What the hell?_ “Stop hiding it then.” _How is_ he _the one putting on the brakes?_ Trying to disguise her embarrassment, Shizuku reached for the bag at his side. She caught it up with two neat fingers and walked into the kitchen.

“You know this is ridiculously simple, right?” she continued, pulling the coffeemaker out of its box. She was giving the carafe a quick wash when Yamaken leaned against the counter next to her.

“Good coffee should not be ridiculously simple,” he said.

“Not all good things have to be complex.” Shizuku filled the carafe with water, poured it into the back of the machine, and flicked the button.

“They tend to be. And, I may not know much about making coffee, but shouldn’t you have maybe put some in there? Somehow?”

Yamaken’s face was inches from her shoulder, studying her movements. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and Shizuku had to force her attention back to the task at hand. “You should run hot water through a new machine. It takes away the taste of plastic.”

The popping sounds of boiling water filled the kitchen, so Shizuku reached for the bag of ground coffee.

“I can do that.” Yamaken plucked the bag from her hands. He opened the package with more care than was warranted, and he inhaled deeply. “That doesn’t smell awful,” he commented, eyes closed.

 _His lashes are so. Fucking. Long._ “The trick is not to buy the cheapest grounds,” Shizuku said, staring at the blond strands. “You can get away with a cheap machine as long as the coffee itself is quality.”

Yamaken’s eyes opened, and she blinked, looking away quickly.

Shizuku busied herself — pouring out the hot water, filling the machine with fresh water, shaking out a filter. “Now, you’ll want two scoops for each —”

“Here.” Yamaken reached for the spoon. “I won’t remember if I don’t do it myself. How much coffee do we want?” His hand was wrapped around hers, holding the spoon.

“I… usually just make a full pot,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“So that’s… sixteen scoops?” Yamaken frowned. “That seems like an awful lot.”

Shizuku bit her lip to keep a laugh at bay. “You should relax a bit. This isn’t brain surgery, Doctor.”

Yamaken rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ve certainly never heard that before.” He began scooping the grounds into the filter.

“I’m just saying you should keep a little perspective. So what if you make a mess of it your first time?”

“Then I will have proven my point that I cannot make a decent pot of coffee.”

“Well, now you’re just being defeatist. You can’t give up after a shitty first try.”

“I am not accustomed to having shitty first tries,” Yamaken said with a sniff. “I tend to perform reasonably well every time I attempt something.”

Shizuku lowered her lashes. “As much as I hate to stroke such an ego, my experience so far forces me to agree,” she purred.

The next scoop missed the filter entirely.

“I think that’s enough though, don’t you?” Shizuku asked innocently. She closed the machine and flipped the switch.

The silence while they waited for the coffee to finish brewing was… awkward. But from the glances Shizuku managed to steal, Yamaken was at least no longer affecting disinterest. He was, actually, bright red from his ears to his neck.

He just wouldn’t look at her.

When the coffeemaker spluttered its last, Shizuku turned to a cupboard. “Since you don’t have mugs, I suppose we can make sake cups work.”

Two hands braced themselves on either side of her, pinning her to the counter. Shizuku’s eyes went wide as Yamaken leaned his head into the back of her neck. “Mizutani Shizuku, what the fuck are you doing to me?” he whispered.

“I… I don’t —”

“You didn’t even say good morning to me today before you started on about coffee, and then you got _so flustered_ when Hiyori asked if we were living together, _and then_ you lectured me about how we were absolutely not in a relationship.” Yamaken’s hands clenched on the countertop. “ _And then_ you push me into a wall as soon as we get back here and try to shove your tongue down my throat.”

Shizuku turned quickly in his arms. “Shove my tongue down—!”

“And hell if I knew what that was all about,”  Yamaken went on. His glare lacked sting while his cheeks were still pink. “Especially after ‘we are definitely not in any kind of relationships at all, don’t even think about it.’ And then you come on with that little joke about ‘yeah, you’re good with first times.’”

Shizuku had the grace to blush. She glanced off to the side. “Okay, that… might have been confusing —”

“Confusing?!” Yamaken pushed himself away from the counter and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “You’ve got me turning in circles. Look.” He backed away several feet and put his hands on his hips. “I have tried very hard not to put you on the spot, not make any demands, but a little clarity would be helpful right now.” He clenched his jaw, looked at her from underneath his hair. “Do you want me or not?”

Shizuku’s mouth went dry. His long-sleeved T-shirt was askew, showing off his collarbone. A belt wrapped around slim hips, and long legs filled out a trim pair of jeans just right. Brown eyes watched her with that old mix of bravery and fear and hope.

_What kind of fucking obvious question is that?_

_And what would happen if you said yes?_

_You cannot fuck with his heart. Not again._

_But you’ve always been honest with him. And given him his answers whenever he’s asked._

_Be honest. About everything._

“Augh.” Shizuku poured two cups of coffee and shoved one in Yamaken’s general direction. “Yes, I want you.”

She watched his slow reaction over the rim of her cup. It was a thing of beauty, really. Shock. Disbelief. Relief. Embarrassment. It was all there.

“However—”

Yamaken closed the distance between them in two steps. Shizuku barely had time to hold the coffee cups out of the way, sloshing no doubt, before he wrapped his arms around her and covered her mouth with his.

What had she wanted to say? It was probably something important. She probably had a plan, something… that would… not have had room for a kiss like this. Most likely.

His hand was caught up in her hair, and his mouth urged hers to move. Shizuku raised her chin to meet him, and Yamaken pulled her closer, letting her lower lip slide into his mouth.

“Yamaken…? Can I…” she whispered into his kiss, “... the coffee….”

“... mm?” He pulled away, his eyelids heavy. “Oh! Right.” He took the two cups from her, stared at them awkwardly for a half-second, then set them on the counter. “Sorry. I —”

Shizuku gripped both his shoulders and stood on her toes. It was a quick peck, nothing more. “I want you,” she whispered again. “And that would have been so much easier a dozen years ago.”

Yamaken swallowed, quirked a smile. “Even three years ago.”

“Difficult even then.” Shizuku let her feet fall flat to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself. “But yeah. Still better than figuring this out now.”

“Well.” Yamaken’s voice was quiet. “I know what I want. I’ve known it for a long time, even when I gave up on it.”

“And what’s that?” _I know. Or at least, I think I know. But I don’t think I can just… I mean, sex is one thing…_

Yamaken shoved his hands in back pockets and blew out a breath. “I told you, after your wedding, didn’t I? I told you to be happy. And that’s still what I want, but I’d be lying if I pretended I didn’t also want you to be happy with me.”

Shizuku looked at the floor.

“Look, I understand, obviously.” Yamaken laughed humorlessly. “You’re not… in the best place to just… jump into something else. But. I want to see you. I want to talk to you. About all the stuff we used to and all the things we never have before.”

Hazy memories of libraries and dark porches filled her mind. “That… sounds doable.” _You are the most unromantic —_

“And of course…” Yamaken leaned forward, his mouth by her ear, his hands still in his pockets. “I wouldn’t hate it if you’d like to sleep with me again.”

It was so easy to pretend to be the one in control when Yamaken channeled awkward-high-school-boy-with-a-crush. But then there were moments like this — when Shizuku was reminded that Yamaguchi Kenji was a grown man who knew what he wanted _and_ knew how to get it.

She refused to let herself make a sound as she felt his breath on her ear.

“After all, you did say the first time was good.” Yamaken took a step closer but still didn’t touch her. “I’m even better with encouragement.”

Shizuku wondered if he could feel the heat radiating off her face. Her hands were clutched to her chest. _I — I have to call Mom and — and change my travel plans. And —_

Yamaken tugged at her ear with his lips.

_And… I should probably find a divorce lawyer and..._

A hand gently cupped her jaw. She reached out to his chest, gripped the neckline of his shirt.

_Would it be better to wait to talk to Haru until after that…?_

Yamaken mouthed at her neck, and Shizuku’s lips parted, her eyes drifted shut. She felt his arm steal lightly around her waist, pressing her into him.

 _This isn’t anything I should be doing right now._ Her hand slid up his neck, and she grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling it from the small ponytail. Yamaken made a pleased sound and found her lips with his. _And the… coffee’s going to burn, and…._ His tongue moved over hers.

 _Really… such a bad idea…_ Yamaken’s arm fell from her waist to her backside, and he lifted her easily onto the kitchen counter. _And of course I’m in a skirt._ But she spread her legs just enough for him to slide in between them.

Yamaken sighed into her mouth, his hands on her hips, slipping down to grip her thighs. Shizuku took his face in her hands and took control of the kiss. Deepening it. Urging him on with her tongue, her teeth.

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeep._

Shizuku stilled in his arms. _What… that can’t be —_

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep._

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she breathed.

Yamaken pulled back. “You, ah, expecting a call?”

“It’s a video chat.” Shizuku glanced behind him to where her laptop rested on the low table in the living room. She narrowed her eyes, then, “Oh shit!” Shoving unceremoniously at his shoulders, Shizuku hopped off the counter and raced to her laptop.

Kneeling in front of the screen, Shizuku closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and fastened on what she hoped was a composed smile. “Hello, Mother. Did I forget we had something scheduled?”

* * *

 

Yamaken figured it was probably best not to appear randomly in the background of Shizuku’s chat. Which meant he was more or less stuck in the kitchen until further notice.

“Oh, no, fine, fine. It’s a great time to talk.”

To hide his grin, Yamaken poured himself some coffee — his first batch he’d ever made himself. He was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who felt it was quite a shitty time to talk, but who could be mad?

_Shizuku wants me. She said she wants me._

_What the fuck are you, fifteen?_

“Yeah, I got the ticket confirmation yesterday. Thanks so much for doing that, I can pay you back —”

 _She bought her tickets to New York already?_ Yamaken took a sip, hoping she realized he couldn’t help but overhear everything she and her mom said. _Good lord!_ He tried to stifle his hacking cough. _This stuff is… absolute shit!_ He eyed the cup suspiciously.

“My things? Well, ah, yes, I do need to get all that sorted, you’re right.”

Yamaken couldn’t quite make out Mizutani-san’s response, but it had a ring of disapproval.

“Yes, well, I know the trip is coming up, but honestly, things have been taking more time here than I’d planned — yes, well, I’ve never done this before either, so I — okay, this is what I’ve figured out…”

Yamaken wondered if Shizuku had to grow up being so decisive because her mother seemed to require it.

“It’s ludicrous to move across the world without having everything sorted here and without knowing exactly the situation I’ll be moving into.” Shizuku’s tone betrayed none of the waffling she’d confessed to just that morning. Yamaken raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I’ll need a return ticket to Tokyo for a week after I arrive in New York. And can you recommend a divorce lawyer from your network here?”

Yamaken spun around, not caring that the foul coffee was spilling. She hadn’t mentioned… he hadn’t been able to ask…

“Well, of course, I’m going to divorce him, Mother. If you’ve got any reason why I shouldn’t, I’d be willing to listen before I laugh.”

And that was the cold Shizuku that he remembered from their very first meeting. Brutally confident. But Mizutani-san’s response was the first he’d heard from her clearly:

“The Yoshida family.”

Shizuku lifted her chin but said nothing. Yamaken watched her, his heart in his throat. He hardly realized that he’d walked closer.

“Haru may not be the golden boy of the Yoshidas the way that Yuuzan is,” Shizuku’s mother continued, “but Yoshida-san is the only one allowed to make poor decisions in that family. His sons are still watched over quite strictly.”

“I feel fortunate then that I’m not one of them,” Shizuku said crisply.

“Shizuku. I need you to not be naive about this.”

Shizuku’s eyes flashed with irritation, but… “I’m listening.”

“The Yoshidas have not had a public divorce in the family for many years. Even Haru’s mother is still technically married to that dreadful man.”

“Are you suggesting that I… just quietly separate from him?” Shizuku’s voice rang with distaste. “And that is advisable because...?”

“Well, if you move to New York to be with me, it may not make a lot of difference. But if you stay in Tokyo — well, they’re an influential family there. You know that.”

Yamaken narrowed his eyes. The Yoshida family operated in the science and technology space in Tokyo, while the Yamaguchis had more influence in the medical field. Still, there was enough overlap that Yamaken had seen the Yoshida influence in action. It wasn’t something you dismissed casually — not if you had professional aspirations in Tokyo. 

“So you’re suggesting that staying married to Haru — even in name only — will, what? Make things easier for my career? Or just not make things hard?” Shizuku's voice was level.

She hadn’t looked up at Yamaken during the entire conversation. He wasn’t certain if it was to hide the fact from Mizutani-san that someone else was in the room with her, or if Shizuku was simply too focused to be bothered with him. Still, she hadn’t seemed to be annoyed at his slow approach.

He finally seated himself opposite her at the living room table. He might as well make it obvious that he was in this. If she didn’t like it, she’d have to let him know.

Mizutani-san finally sighed, a heavy sound. “I’m… glad you have the imagination to see how this could go. Frankly, it depends on the separation and how ugly it is. If Haru… has difficulty letting things happen quietly, your career in Tokyo could suffer. Not that I wouldn’t be overjoyed to have you work only in New York with me,” she said quickly, “but I’m getting the impression my daughter isn’t going to be satisfied with that limitation.”

Yamaken watched as Shizuku closed her eyes in frustation. Haru had never exactly had a knack for delicacy.

“Separation without divorce is not an option I’m going to entertain,” Shizuku said finally, “at least not without exhausting every other avenue. I’m sure you understand.”

“I did see your face. Did you take any pictures?”

Shizuku blanched. “N-no, but… surely having to produce pictures wouldn’t make for a quiet divorce?”

“Let’s just say they could keep things from becoming too loud.”

Shizuku clutched her head in her hands. Inhaled deeply through her nose. “No. No, this is getting… out of hand. I still know Haru. I still know him, and he wouldn’t want to… make an example of me or anything ridiculous like that.” She looked up at the screen. “Certainly not for the sake of the Yoshida family _pride_.”

“You’ve always known your own mind best.” Mizutani-san said after a short pause. “You’re an intelligent woman, Shizuku. I trust that you’ll figure this out.”

* * *

 

Shizuku ended the video chat with her mother and finally lifted dared to lift her eyes above the screen.

Yamaken sat there, an arm propped up on one knee, his expression serious.

“Well, I’ll only be in New York for a week now,” she said, really to break the suffocating silence more than anything.

“So you’re definitely getting a divorce then,” Yamaken commented. “I hadn’t realized you’d settled that for yourself.”

“Well, that’s pretty much always been the plan, ever since I saw my face in a mirror that night.” Shizuku let herself fall backward onto the floor, heaving an exaggerated sigh. “And I’m feeling guilty about not feeling guilty about wanting to piss all over his dad’s _family honor_ bullshit.”

She heard rustling and raised her head to see Yamaken crawling around the table. He flopped on his stomach at her side. “Tell me you’re not determined to get divorced from Haru just to flip off the Yoshidas.”

Shizuku glared at him. “I’m not that petty, and you know it.” She turned her head to look at the living room ceiling. “That would just be a nice little side effect.”

Yamaken raised a dubious eyebrow at her. “Heaven help Tokyo if Mizutani Shizuku ever decides to go into politics.”

She folded her hands on her chest. “I have so much to do. First, get in touch with Haru. Arrange to pick up the rest of my things. Should I have Natsume come with me? Tsk, that could be really awkward. Then I’ll have to put some things in storage, pack what I need for New York… figure out an apartment for when I get back —”

“Hey, hey, whoa.” Yamaken leaned over her. “Slow down. You’re not a robot. Bring your stuff here. Leave your stuff here. Worry about another place to live when you get back.” He brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “You know you can stay here as long as you like.”

That low voice seemed to sink through her chest and come to a rest in her gut. “I can’t just keep living with you like this,” Shizuku whispered. “You know that.”

He rested his hand on the top of her head, and his brown eyes were serious. “I know that you can do whatever the fuck you want to. My place is open to you for as long as you need to figure stuff out. If you need your own place for a while, I get it. But find a place that’s right for you, not just to get out of here as fast as you can.”

Shizuku lowered her lashes. “What if I need to get out of here as fast as I can?”

“You can leave whenever you want to.” Yamaken’s mouth hovered over hers.

“I still have to teach you to make coffee though.” With a hand in his hair, she brought his lips down to hers.

“Whatever.” He nibbled her lower lip. “I’m not convinced you know how to make it.” Yamaken shifted to plant a kiss on each of her eyelids. “Did you try that stuff we made? It’s crap.”

“Well, I did lose count of how many scoops you put in.” Shizuku tugged the rest of his hair out of his short ponytail, tossed the band off somewhere. “And, yeah, the machine probably burnt the coffee by the time you had any.”

Yamaken combed through her hair with his fingers. “It was barely on for ten minutes after it was done brewing.”

“Mm, well, the warming plates on cheap machines get really hot,” Shizuku murmured, studying the cat-like shape of his eyes. The high cheekbones. That smooth blond hair falling everywhere. “You have to take care to turn them off.”

“You’re so beautiful when you talk about housekeeping tips.” Yamaken gripped her wrist in one hand, lightly held her jaw with the other. He tilted her head just to one side, pressed his lips softly under her ear.

Shizuku’s mouth fell open in a silent sigh. Her hand found his hip, and she tucked a finger in the waist of his jeans.

“That’s nice,” he whispered against her neck, and the same heat from last night began a slow build in Shizuku’s core.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

“My god.” Yamaken rested his forehead on her shoulder. He sat up with a groan and grabbed her phone from the table. “See if it’s important, and then I’d really _really_ like to put everything on airplane mode for awhile if you don’t mind.”

Shizuku smirked and ran a hand up his abs under his shirt. “Oh, it’s Natsume. Hi, Natsume,” she greeted, proud she only grunted a little bit as Yamaken doubled over onto her chest.

“Mitty.” Natsume’s voice was as serious as Shizuku had ever heard it. Her hand froze on Yamaken’s back mid-stroke. “Mitty, Haru wants to see you. I wouldn’t tell him where… where you are, but. He knows I’ve seen you.”

Shizuku stared up into Yamaken’s eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me come with you.”
> 
> She laughed and pulled away from his arms. “As what? Here’s the man I’m living with these days?”
> 
> Yamaken gritted his teeth. “Are we just going to keep forgetting that I was friends with both of you?”
> 
> “All the more awkward for you to be there then, isn’t it?”
> 
> “He put you in the hospital, Shizuku! Someone else should be around!”
> 
> “I got a few stitches, Yamaken.” Shizuku glared at him. “Don’t make it worse than it was.”
> 
> That stung. “Why would you defend anything about what he did?”
> 
> She gripped her hair with both fists. “I’m being realistic! I texted him, we’ll be meeting in a cafe, there will be other people around, will you. Stop. Worrying!”

Yamaken poured himself a sake cup of coffee and opened the sliding door to the balcony. This batch only tasted a little better than yesterday’s.

He settled onto a lounge with a sigh. Stared moodily out over a late morning in Tokyo.

They’d had a little bit of a fight last night.

_“Let me come with you.”_

_She had laughed and pulled away from his arms. “As what? Here’s the man I’m living with these days?”_

_Yamaken gritted his teeth. “Are we just going to keep forgetting that I was friends with_ both _of you?”_

_“All the more awkward for you to be there then, isn’t it?”_

_“He put you in the hospital, Shizuku! Someone else should be around!”_

_“I got a few stitches, Yamaken.” Shizuku glared at him. “Don’t make it worse than it was.”_

_That had stung. “Why would you defend anything about what he did?”_

_She gripped her hair with both fists. “I’m being realistic! I texted him, we’ll be meeting in a cafe, there will be other people around, will you. Stop. Worrying!”_

_“You… you already contacted him?”_

_Shizuku sighed heavily. “I do know him, Yamaken. I’ve known him for a long time. And I still trust him.”_

_They were quiet for a few moments._

_He stood. “Be careful,” he had said, his back to her. “Call me if you need me.”_

_They didn’t speak for the rest of the evening. Yamaken’s bed had seemed rather larger than usual that night._

Yamaken leaned his head back. Her note had been brief this morning. The name of the restaurant. The time. A promise to call if necessary.

“God damn it.”

He was fairly confident she was safe. Haru was a possessive, miscalculating nut who was too strong for his own good — but he would never try to hurt someone.

 _Well._ Yamaken corrected himself. _He would never try to hurt anyone he loved._ He still remembered the look on Haru’s face as he’d moved to shove Yamaken over the side of the batting cage stairs. They'd been in high school.

Haru hadn’t gone through with it. Shizuku had interrupted them. Yamaken tried never to wonder whether he would have done it or not.

Actually, the few times Haru had gotten worked up enough to really lash out… well, Haru hadn’t liked seeing Yamaken at Shizuku’s side ever. Unfortunately, Shizuku was worse at dodging than Yamaken had been.

 _Maybe it’s better I’m not there._ He stared down into his cold mug of bad coffee. How, after all this time, was sitting and waiting for Shizuku still the best that he could manage?

* * *

 

This was the second time she had walked past the restaurant.

Shizuku hunched up her shoulders, trying not to wallow in defeat. _You realize this looks more awkward the more times you pass by without going in._ But she’d arrived a bit early.

 _Ha. If I were still in high school, I’d walk right in, order my meal, and start eating._ When had she turned into an adult afraid of sitting by herself in a restaurant? An adult waiting to meet her soon-to-be-ex-husband?

_Stop that. It’s Haru, not some stranger._

Shizuku turned on her heel and walked stiffly through the restaurant doors.

“Table for one today, miss?”

“I…”

And there he was.

Gray eyes watched her from across the room. His chin was propped in one hand, his black hair falling in his face. She never knew what he was thinking when he wasn’t smiling. After all this time, she still couldn’t tell.

“Thank you, I think I’ve found my party,” Shizuku said. She might have been meeting a client, for all the hostess could tell from her quiet confidence.

 _Take care of what’s in front of you._ She walked to Haru’s table with unhurried steps. _Keep in mind what you want._

_I want… this to not hurt. Either of us._

_Why not wish for the moon while you’re at it, Shizuku?_

Haru stood as she seated herself.

Shizuku looked up at him for a moment. She broke the silence finally with, “Good morning, Haru.”

His intense eye contact used to be such an unsettling thing. Shizuku recalled when she would blush under that stare. For several years now, she’d been able to meet his gaze steadily, waiting for him to finally speak his mind. 

“Where are the stitches?”

Shizuku blinked. She put a self-conscious hand to her cheek.

“Natsume said you had stitches in your face.” Haru took her jaw gently between his thumb and forefinger. Turned her face slightly this way and that.

Shizuku gripped his wrist and set his hand softly back on the table. “You have to get stitches out of the face quickly. Otherwise they scar.”

Haru had the grace to look down into his water glass. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. So quiet, so faint. Then he raised his head, and Shizuku could see that his color was a bit high. His jaw was tight. “I’m sorry,” he repeated a bit louder. “I shouldn’t… I won’t ever —”

Shizuku waved him to silence as a server approached. “Black coffee please,” she said. “And the daily scone.”

The pretty waitress turned to Haru, but he was staring at Shizuku helplessly. After an awkward moment, Shizuku caved and let the girl know that was probably all they needed. _If he would just… pay attention to his surroundings._ But whether he wouldn’t or couldn’t — either way, it was no longer Shizuku’s concern.

She leaned back in her seat. “I told you that night that I forgive you. I still do, you know.”

“But you still left.” Haru’s voice was quiet, but his eyes shimmered with every emotion. “You _left_ , and it’s been five days.”

“I forgive you,” Shizuku said again. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to live like that again.”

Haru let out a breath, a tiny puff of shock. “What… does that mean?”

She closed her eyes. _This sucks. This sucks so much, and I don’t know how else to do this._ “You’ve promised me before. So many things. You’d learn to focus your anger on what made you mad instead of redirecting it at me. You’d never throw anything again. You even promised once that you wouldn’t come near me until you cooled off, which… ” Shizuku shook her head. “I should have known then. If you can’t even be near me when you’re angry because you know you can’t control yourself —”

“I can!” Haru leaned forward. A nearby patron raised an eyebrow at the sudden noise. “You never actually left before, I really mean it, I can —”

“Haru. I’m not coming back.”

He froze. His eyes were wide, his hand halfway across the table.

Shizuku watched the transformation. Emotion vanished from Haru’s face. His eyes were hooded, and he slowly sat back in his chair. The only sign that he understood what she’d said was in his shallow breaths, coming quickly and silently through his open mouth.

“Ever?” A whisper but calm.

Shizuku tightened her jaw. “I contacted a lawyer this morning. She came highly recommended.”

Haru held her gaze for a moment. Turned to stare out the window. She could see his throat work. “Divorce. That’s what you want?”

 _Would this be easier if he made a scene? If he yelled at me or threw a glass?_ “I won’t live my life wondering, Haru. What you’ll throw next, if I’ll be expecting it, if I can dodge it, how bad will it hurt me if I can’t.” She swallowed. “I won’t waste my time wondering when you’ll get bored with merely throwing things.”

“Don’t,” he choked. “Dammit, Shizuku. Don’t.” He didn’t look at her.

She wiped a hand over her face. “I need to pack up a few things from the apartment. Is tomorrow good for you?”

“That’s it?” Haru finally turned to face her. “You’re talking about packing, just like that?”

“What would you like to do instead? Drag this out? Talk about the good times? Pretend I didn’t get four stitches taken out of my face a couple days ago? That you didn’t _stalk me_ when I booked a hotel room away from you?”

Haru glared at her. “That’s only because you left without saying hardly anything. I had no idea what you were thinking!”

Shizuku felt her face get hot. “You saw me after I got back from the ER. It shouldn’t require a degree in psychology to determine what the hell I was thinking,” she hissed.

“Pardon.” The server slid a hot coffee and a dainty plate onto the table. “For the lady.”

Haru and Shizuku stared at the scone as though it were an alien life form instead of a blueberry pastry.

After a moment’s silence, Shizuku laid some cash on the table and stood. “I’ll be at the apartment tomorrow morning to pick up my things. I’m sure my lawyer will be in touch. You’re welcome to the scone.”

“Wait.” Haru lifted a hand as she moved to leave. “Wait.”

She watched him but didn’t sit back down.

He inhaled deeply, blew out an enormous breath slowly. “I can offer you a mutual consent divorce.”

Shizuku’s mouth fell open.

Haru looked up at her, and — _there it is_ — Shizuku felt her heart startle at those gray eyes that could look so very old. “It seems it’s the last thing I can do for you.” He laughed, a humorless sound. “I’m not a good husband. Not good at caring for people without making them regret it.”

The back of her throat burned. _There are so many things I don’t regret about you,_ but she couldn’t say it. If she spoke the words, she’d never leave.

“But I do love you,” Haru went on, his voice firm. “And I won’t put you through what a Yoshida divorce would look like.”

Shizuku stared. How to react, what to say… she was at a loss. _Competent, eloquent Shizuku — you are such a lie._ It was romantic and horrible and dramatic and regrettable and achingly sad all at once. _How does anyone do this?_ But there was no guidebook. There had been nothing to study.

“Thank you,” she finally breathed. What else could say everything and nothing at the same time? “Thank you. Haru.”

He held her gaze for a long moment before he allowed a faint smile. “I won’t be in tomorrow morning. Your key still works, of course.”

 _Why is it so much easier to fight?_ “I see.”

Haru reached for her untouched coffee and settled back in his chair. “If you don’t mind then… I’ll be staying here for a moment. I’ll wait to hear from you.” And he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the fresh coffee.

 _Dismissed._ “I’ll — I’ll be in touch.” _Almost made it the whole time without my voice cracking. Almost._ Her shoes clicked too loudly on the cafe floor as she walked to the exit.

Shizuku made it a block before she caught herself all but falling onto a bench. She only recognized the adrenaline that had been pumping through her as it was leaving. _My hands are shaking._ She tucked them under her arms.

 _Divorce._ It was a big word. Loaded with all the more meaning when she allowed herself to think, even for a moment, about the Yoshida family influence. The fact that even Haru acknowledged that it could have been hell… she shook her head, buried her face in her hands. _No. No, don’t go down that road. Haru promised. It’ll be fine._

She looked up at the sky. “It’ll be fine.”

Absentmindedly. Subconsciously. Involuntarily. Whatever. Her cell phone was at her ear, and she was waiting out the ringing sound, hollow and loud.

“How are you? Are you okay?” His voice was there immediately.

Shizuku squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears trace paths to her trembling smile. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Yamaken?”

“Mm? Yes?”

“I need a drink.”

It wasn’t a romantic thing to say. It wasn’t a declaration of love. It wasn’t any kind of a hint about any kind of a future.

But his laugh was a rumble that traveled through her ear, down her sternum, and into her gut.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added an extra chapter to the outline. Felt this was not the brightest note to end the fic on. Feel good chapter next, I swear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hm? Shizuku straightened in the passenger seat. That was our exit. “Kenji. Are we not going home?”
> 
> A sentence died in his throat, and she watched as a flush crept up Yamaken’s neck. “Ah. Well. Not right away, no. Is that okay?” He kept his eyes on the road.
> 
> She frowned. “I suppose so…” It had been a long flight and not helped by the fact that what she really wanted was to kick off her shoes, rip off his shirt, and casually suggest they spend the next twelve hours in bed. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye.

She could just see him outside the terminal. Tall and blond, he got a lot of second looks.

He caught her eye, and that slow grin threw an extra beat into her heart rate. It was only when she stood practically toe to toe with him that he lowered his head with a soft, “Hi.”

Shizuku raised her chin to meet his kiss, her eyes drifting shut.

“Hungry?” Yamaken whispered against her lips.

“Mm. It was just tofu and broccoli on the plane.” She looped her arm through his, loving his warmth at her side as they walked to the airport exit. “And Mother wanted to keep working straight through, so we ordered sandwiches in.”

Yamaken glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “You have no idea what it’s like to eat in New York, do you? Every time you go, you’re grabbing some hasty meal at the firm.”

Shizuku jabbed an elbow in his ribs. “Well, maybe if I extended my visits, there wouldn’t be such a push to cram in so much time at the office.”

“Don’t pretend like it’s my fault.” Yamaken wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s totally your decision to rush back to me.” He traced the seam of her jacket sleeve from her elbow to her bicep. “Please don’t consider that a complaint, of course.”

“Well.” _How after a year can he still make me blush?_ “Well, I only wanted to spare a week this time,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I wanted to see how you’re doing after your first week with your own practice.”

Yamaken, normally so collected and straight-faced, tried to hide a grin behind his hand. He was breathtaking when he got excited, and Shizuku couldn’t help but stare. “It’s been going really well. Much more smoothly than I anticipated. I think it really helped that we took extra time putting together a really competent staff…”

Shizuku bit back a laugh. He’d picked up their pace, and she was racing a little to keep up with his long strides. It never occurred to her to protest, even though she was certainly huffing by the time they reached his car.

_He runs his hand through his hair a lot when he’s like this._

“And you should really see the waiting room again,” Yamaken went on as he set her bags in the trunk. “One of the receptionists suggested a couple tweaks to the play area, and it seems to be…”

_And he’s a lot louder than normal. Like he forgets he has to be quiet or something._

She sat in silence as they drove, smiling to herself as he described the new child-friendly admission process, an upcoming vaccination campaign, a new young patient’s reaction to the practice’s small library.

“I wish you could have seen him! Sitting there in one of those tiny chairs you picked out, ripping through the pages of a new book… we’ll probably have to get some sort of schedule in place for picking up new books,” Yamaken mused. “I’m sure they’ll get damaged...”

 _Hm?_ Shizuku straightened in the passenger seat. _That was our exit._ “Kenji. Are we not going home?”

A sentence died in his throat, and she watched as a flush crept up Yamaken’s neck. “Ah. Well. Not right away, no. Is that okay?” He kept his eyes on the road.

She frowned. “I suppose so…” It had been a long flight and not helped by the fact that what she really wanted was to kick off her shoes, rip off his shirt, and casually suggest they spend the next twelve hours in bed. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye.

He was endlessly long and lean. Even a bit tensed up, he had a graceful, confident air. Shizuku narrowed her eyes. _That blue sweater’s days are numbered._ It looked soft and a bit thin and hid what she knew to be a rather deliciously hard set of abs.

She turned to stare out the window. “So where are we going instead?”

“You said you were hungry, right?” Yamaken pulled the car smoothly up to a valet station. “I thought we had a few things to celebrate if you weren’t too tired.”

A valet opened her door, and Shizuku cocked her head. The place was a hole in the wall, a vine-covered, narrow storefront sandwiched between a chocolatier and a sake shop. No signs boasted the name of the restaurant.

“Thank you, sir.” The valet accepted Yamaken’s keys with a deep bow.

Yamaken offered her his arm, with only a hint of exaggeration. Bemused, Shizuku let him lead her through an ancient wooden door held open by yet another attendee all in black.

“Yamaguchi-san, welcome. Your table is ready for you.”

A series of twists and turns through dim, narrow halls offered glimpses into small private rooms. There were flashes of white linen and flickering candles. Small dinner parties lingered over half-filled wine glasses.

Their hostess held back a curtain. “If you please.”

The table only seated two. Rather than being stifling, the tiny room had an air of intimacy thanks to the warm wooden walls, the rugs casually strewn on the floor, the bottle already decanted on the table.

Shizuku heard the curtain fall back into place behind her. She let out a soft gasp as Yamaken lifted her jacket gently from her shoulders. “You know, I never get tired of the look on your face when I take you to places like this.”

His whisper was right at her ear, and Shizuku shivered. “You have excellent taste in restaurants, what can I say?” She stepped toward the table. She still didn’t like him to know _right away_ how much he affected her. “If only they weren’t always so expensive.”

Yamaken watched her with cat-like eyes as she pretended not to look at him. “Yet somehow it’s turned out to be the one thing you don’t actually mind spending money on.” Shizuku could hear the laughter in his voice.

She lifted her chin, seated herself in what she hoped was a defiant manner. “I like to eat. And quality is an important consideration in budgeting.”

He laughed and joined her at the table. “I also thought it was time we celebrated opening your mom’s new branch here in Tokyo.” Yamaken reached for her wine glass and poured from the decanter.

“You know it won’t be official for another two months at least.” The wine infused the small room with a rich, full scent, and she closed her eyes to savor it.

“But you have the building leased,” Yamaken pointed out. “And we never celebrated when Mizutani-san agreed to opening up a branch office in Tokyo.”

“There wasn’t exactly time. Once Mother agrees to an idea, she takes off with it. Resting is not what Mizutanis do.”

“No?” Yamaken sipped from his own glass innocently. “I was hoping to convince you that’s what you should do with me after dinner.”

Shizuku felt heat in her cheeks, but _he’s not getting the upper hand here_. “Funny thing.” She flashed him a grin. “I did have plans for you, but they certainly didn’t include resting.”

Yamaken’s eyes went black. Shizuku swallowed a tiny gasp. That look never failed to take her breath away. He opened his mouth, but the room’s curtain parted with a quiet flourish.

“The amuse-bouche, to begin the chef’s menu.”

The tiny spoonful of salmon and roe was the perfect light start to the meal. But when the curtain fell back into place, Shizuku leaned forward in what she hoped was a seductive manner.

“So you were going to say something?” Shizuku kept her voice purposefully low.

“That was marvelous,” Yamaken said, waving the spoon for emphasis. “I really wanted you to be able to see what the new chef here can do, so I reserved her special tasting menu for tonight.”

“Ah. Mm.” She sat back in her chair, hoping she hadn’t looked ridiculous. “Yes, there was a hint of lemon over the fish, wasn’t there?”

“Yes, and did you notice the little bow of basil just to the side? I think it’s a mark of the chef’s quality that…”

Shizuku leaned her chin on her hand, listening with half an ear as Yamaken expounded on the dishes they might sample that evening. _I’ve got no business pouting. This is a fabulous surprise._ She looked up as the server brought in a small aperitif. _Just because I’d really hoped to be in bed by now is no reason…_

She glanced over at Yamaken. He was asking the server a question about the pastis, and Shizuku took the opportunity to study him. _His neck is so long,_ she thought, not for the first time. Her eyes half closed. Yamaken loved it when she would lick his neck and then nibble at the warm skin. Really, he made the most satisfying sounds. It had been one of the first things she’d discovered about him when they started sleeping together regularly.

The terrine was, she supposed, excellent, given how Yamaken gushed over it. Shizuku had never particularly cared for pates and the like.

“Oh, I’m surprised you finished that.”

She looked up, startled. Yamaken was resting his elbows on the table, his brown eyes shining. “I figured this would be your least favorite part of the meal,” he continued with a smile. “Did you like it though?”

Shizuku blushed. “It’s just not something I’m used to.” She laughed self-consciously. “I imagine with your background —”

Yamaken reached out and took her hand easily. “Stop that,” he said. His voice was gentle, and he raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t like something, don’t eat it. There’s no need to apologize either way.”

He brought her fingers up to his lips and pressed the softest kiss to her nails.

Shizuku’s heart picked up speed. The night before she’d left for this last trip to New York, he’d taken her fingers in his mouth one by one. Sucked them, licked them. Teased them with his teeth. Her lips parted, remembering how her fingertips had sent fire through the rest of her body that night.

Yamaken held her gaze, and — _can he know what I’m thinking? Does he remember?_ — he opened his mouth slightly, letting her fingertips just rest on his lips.

It was a small dish of sorbet that provided the interruption this time.

Shizuku tried to slip her hand from his, but Yamaken held it easily while the server described the trout with beurre blanc that would follow. His fingers slipped underneath her bracelet. It was a simple move, one that shouldn’t have heightened her awareness of him.

They talked of nothing and everything while they picked at the flaky white fish. _What do you have going on this week,_ and _I couldn’t make this at home if I tried_ , and _should we get a cat sometime do you think?_

The bottle was emptying. Warmth seemed to be soaking her from the inside out, spreading slowly. When did his chair get so much closer to mine? That blue sweater was rubbing shoulders with her blouse but, maddeningly, only once in awhile.

She wanted him on her, dammit. Wanted that sweater off, wanted his hands slipping up the back of her shirt.

The salad arrived just as Shizuku was contemplating closing the distance between her mouth and his. She could still smell the sorbet on his breath, the fish had been so light.

“Mm, what do you think is in this vinaigrette?” Yamaken hummed appreciatively after a forkful of greens. “Possibly… champagne maybe?”

Shizuku groaned. It was a bit louder than she’d intended, but the wine wasn’t helping her hold back. And it _had_ been a terrifically long flight, and even if she _did_ manage to stay awake long enough to get him into bed, it was unlikely she’d be able to do anything about it by then.

“Kenji,” she said feelingly. “Not that the salad isn’t wonderful.” Shizuku tried to fix Yamaken with a stern glare. _If only he weren’t so damn pretty._ “Not that I haven’t enjoyed everything, in fact. But.” She shoved her chair back and stood, bracing herself on the table. “How much fucking longer is this meal going to take?”

Yamaken set his glass down immediately. “Oh, Shizuku.” His brow furrowed. “You have to be so tired.” He reached a hand to her shoulder. “What was I thinking, a dinner like this right after a trip like that? I was so excited to show you this place that I wasn’t…”

“Mm.” Shizuku straightened and put a finger to his lips. Yamaken eyebrows shot up. “Shh. Shh. Kenji,” she whispered.

He watched her with wide eyes as she slid onto his lap. She was a little the worse for the wine. It probably wasn’t her most graceful attempt at seduction.

“The salad,” Shizuku continued, hushed, “is fabulous. I bet there _is_ champagne in the dressing.”

Yamaken gave a faint, dumbstruck nod.

“But what I really want. What I really would quite like very much.” She put her forehead to his, draped her arms down his back. “Is for you to get your stupidly fancy car from the valet, drive me to your overpriced apartment, and let me fuck you senseless in that gorgeously huge bed.”

A breath escaped the young doctor, and Shizuku smirked. “I can understand that it’s not exactly on the same level as a French tasting menu, but I wondered if I worked very hard to persuade you…” She feathered her lips over his ear, delighting in his tiny gasp. “... if you might come around to my point of view?”

She felt his hands slide hesitantly down to where her thighs straddled him, her skirt hiked up. Shizuku gripped his wrists. “Ah ah,” she breathed in his ear. “Are we leaving? I don’t do this here.”

“Shizuku,” he finally whispered. Yamaken spread his legs wider in his chair, shifted just slightly so she was sitting perfectly over his crotch. He smoothed the flat of his palms against her thighs, her hands ineffective shackles on his wrists. “I could make you want it here.”

 _Ugh._ She felt herself open. _Even when I catch him off guard, he catches up in no time._ “Never,” she breathed, smirking.

Shizuku had just stood from his lap when the room’s curtain twitched again to the side.

It was a fine scene, Shizuku thought, for a server just trying to do their job. Yamaken’s hands were frozen midair, reaching out for Shizuku’s hips. She herself was in the midst of tugging her skirt back down over her thighs.

“And… and for the cheese plate,” the server barely faltered, “I have a Roquefort, a boursin, a brie, and a chevre —”

“And I deeply regret that I’m unable to sample them all,” Yamaken said, offering a low bow. He set Shizuku’s jacket lightly on her shoulders. “The lady reminds me she had a very long journey earlier today. The wine has proved too much.”

They left the server holding a wad of cash, stammering directions behind them for the exit.

“Really, Shizuku.” Yamaken stood tall at her side as they waited for the car. “You couldn’t wait until after the cheese plate at least? It’s supposed to be one of the highlights of the menu. The chef selects its contents herself daily.”

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Shizuku tossed back. She allowed herself a smile, looking straight forward into the late evening. “You’ll still eat well tonight.”

She loved how often she got to hear that laugh these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! We're wrapping up with this OTP of mine a year after the last chapter takes place. A nice, normal date (well, a bit on the expensive side because, YAMAKEN) accompanied by some sexual tension, and a dinner that gets cut off a little early. 
> 
> I'm not against the idea of adding a sequel to this someday, or even just another smut scene if the mood strikes. But for now, I just wanted to focus on how Yamaken finally got his girl. In this universe at least. I was always pulling for you, man.
> 
> [@codango on Tumblr](http://codango.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [@codango](http://codango.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> [Marcella Christie](http://marcellachristie.com/) for my alter ego


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